The Other Side of Midnight
by pleasant-hell
Summary: Brittany and Santana struggle with a rekindled relationship. Living in New York and trying to make their dreams come true tests their limits as individuals and a couple. Companion piece to Sometime Around Midnight. Can be read alone as well.
1. Chapter 1

This is the Brittana side of my other story Sometime Around Midnight. It can definitely be read as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy.

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><p>You're alone. Again. You stand at the sink, rinsing off your singular dinner plate before rubbing your eyes. You're exhausted from the long day of class and you've been studying since you got home at three, but you're going to stay up and wait for her to get home.<p>

You trudge to the small couch in your small apartment. This is not what living in New York looks like in movies. No one tells you that you can barely fit all of your clothes in the closet or that if you have more than four people in the bedroom you're all touching each other. This two bedroom is a steal and it's still ridiculously expensive. You lived in California a block from the beach for as much as it costs for you to live in this place.

But you're not going to complain. Sure sometimes it rains for an entire week straight or it's freezing outside for at least five months, but you're not here for the weather or the apartments. You're here because Brittany's here. When you were without her in California, you never felt complete. You fell into old patterns of one-night stands and drinking until you pass out. You were trying to use those to make up the half of your heart that was missing. The one that had been missing since you broke up with her. You can't really count all the times you cried yourself to sleep, not that you care to.

You pick up one of your books for school and settle in the corner of the couch with it. You're going to study until she gets home. These first few weeks of hammering out the choreography for her new show are killing you. She's out until really late and she leaves with you in the morning. You almost never see her during the day. It's hard, but it's her dream. So it's your dream too. You're sticking with her this time. You're not going to get scared and run off. You're not going to get jealous and run off. You're not going to get mad and run off. Your feet are firmly planted in the ground next to her and you aren't going anywhere. You don't think you can stand to live without her anymore.

Before Brittany gets home, Quinn calls. She's coming to New York for a few days. You get a little excited because maybe you won't be alone all the time. You've told her before that she's welcome to the couch, but this time you offer her the guest room. It was your room for a while before you moved into Brittany's room. Then you rented it out a couple times, but no one ever stays long. They always complain about the noise coming for your room. You start laughing when they bring it up and they all leave. Now you use it to store books and it's where you go for extreme studying. You lock yourself in there before a test to concentrate. You have to study like crazy. You have to keep your scholarship. There's no way you can finish med school if you don't.

She's coming for a real estate conference. That sounds like a one-way ticket to suicide for you, but that's her deal. You can't remember her ever sounding this excited so you just listen to her talk before getting off the phone to resume studying. You miss Quinn and you're glad she'll be here. She's been your only company for the past few months while Brittany is working and she's hundreds of miles away.

At around eleven the front door quietly opens. You immediately look over the back of the couch and see her sleepily walk into the apartment with her bag over her shoulder. She smiles like she always does when she walks into the room and she sees you. You close your book and stand from the couch relieving her of her bag. You give her a kiss and take her bag over to the washing machine closet thing you have. It's just a tiny room off the tiny kitchen that stores your stackable washer and dryer. You take her dance clothes out of the bag and start them to washing. Then you put her bag on top of the washer, making sure you didn't miss anything.

When you turn around, you see on of her legs draped over the back of the couch. When you walk around the end of the couch and look down at her, she's got an arm draped over her eyes. "How was work?"

She looks up at you and removes her arm. She takes your hand and pulls you down on top of her. "It was okay. I think we're almost done with the first act."

You kiss her gently, reigning in the hunger you have. You love her so much and you never get to see her. You pull away, "That's awesome. Only a few more weeks of planning right? Then you start rehearsals?"

She nods and kisses you, resting one of her hands on the back of your neck pulling you closer to her. Her tongue slides along your bottom lip and pulls it into her mouth. When she's in the mood, her kisses are never less than earthquake inducing, mind-blowing spiritual experiences. You can feel her brush her thumb against your jaw.

After a few minutes of a PG-13 make-out session, you can feel that she's getting tired. You know she has to be so you pull back and look at her with a smile, "Let's go to bed."

It doesn't take much coaxing to get her off the couch and into the bedroom. You bring the book you were studying from because as per your usual routine as soon as she's asleep you turn on your lamp and resume studying with one of your hands on her. Usually on her back or stroking her hair. You just like to know that she's there. Being able to feel her warm body in the bed next to you, the slow rise and fall of her chest, makes you remember that the four years you spent in California without her are over. You're here with her now for almost a year and you'll never leave her again.

When you're both settled down you mention that Quinn's coming in next week and you need to borrow her car. She smiles with her eyes closed and says, "Awesome."

The next few days go on the same way. Coffee, Class, Study, Dinner alone, Brittany comes home, Bed, Study. Luckily Quinn is arriving on a day where you don't have class because she's landing at nine in the morning.

You splurged on some overpriced coffee on the way to the airport, but it feels worth it as it runs down your throat making your body jerk awake. You see Quinn she's walking toward you with a bag over her shoulder.

She tells you that you look tired after a hug and you tell her that you have a test coming.

She rubs your arm and gives you an encouraging smile, "It's only like three more years right?"

"Ugh," you groan. What the hell did you want to go to med school for again? "Don't remind me." You shake your head. Oh yeah so you could take care of your parents and Brittany and her parents and sister. You take care of those you love and they're your family. Hell Brittany is your world and you will make sure that they never want for anything for the rest of your life.

You turn to Quinn, "Anyway, how's Lima?"

Her face squinches up around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She sighs, "It's still Lima."

You unlock Brittany's car and open the trunk so she can put her stuff in it, "When are you going to move out here?"

All you get is a half-hearted shrug. She looks sad and it makes you sad. You know she's not happy there. You know she's not happy with Finn. It's taken all of your restraint to tell her that she's being an idiot. That she needs to dump his ass and high tail it to New York asap. But you're an adult now, or so people have been telling you so there is now a filter from your brain to your mouth stopping your underappreciated comments.

"Nice ride," she smiles and taps the butterfly air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

You roll your eyes, but smile, "I don't actually own a car smartass."

Quinn pauses before she asks, "Where is your better half?"

"She's at work," you try to keep the bitterness out of your voice. You really hate that you feel like this. You're happy for her most of the time, but the rest of the time you would rather be impoverished and live in her car than for her to be working like this. At least that way you'd get to see her.

The traffic is lighter than normal which you're happy about. When you get to your apartment, you're a little self-conscious. It's definitely not the cute house she's used to living in. Sure you sent her pictures while you were re-painting and changing some fixtures, but seeing it in real life is different.

Luckily she doesn't seem to notice. Quinn just follows you to the guest room. Your books are all over the place, but you stayed off of the bed and kept the nightstand cleaned off for her. "I'm sorry about the mess," you take a deep breath, "I meant to clean it, but I lose all kinds of time when I'm studying." You're about to start picking it up again when her voice stops you.

"It's perfect," she says with a smile, which surprises you.

A yawn jumps out at you from nowhere. You cover your mouth and let it run its course before asking, "Is there anything you wanted to see that you haven't seen yet?"

"You say that like I come here all the time," she puts her bags down by the bed. You take that as she's ready to leave the room so you walk the two steps it takes to get to the living room and she follows, adding, "I haven't seen anything except for the time we came out here for Nationals in high school."

"If you would have snuck out with us you would have seen a lot more too," you smirk, the memory still vividly with you. You and Brittany snuck out with everyone except Quinn and Rachel who stayed in their hotel room, but when you got far enough away from the hotel you and Brittany took off from the group. You walked through Central Park, holding hands. You walked down Broadway, talking about how you were going to get the hell out of Lima by any means necessary. You maxed out your credit card of 5th Avenue, but you couldn't care less when you saw the smile on Brittany's face.

When you finally rise from your revelry, you find Quinn is off in la-la land too. You bring her out of it by asking, "What time is the show?" You almost forgot that Quinn bought tickets to…something that has a name that you can't remember and asked you to go.

She digs them out of her purse and says the time before you're sure that her eyes could focus on the tickets, "Four."

"I keep forgetting how early weekend shows can be," you offer. The last show you went to, at Brittany's insistence, started at eight. You fall back onto the couch, careful not to spill your coffee and then take a long sip of it. You practically live on it now. You glance at the clock on the wall, "Well we can get dressed and go have lunch before the show. It'll be dark by the time we get out and maybe Brit can meet us for dinner." And maybe pigs will start flying and you'll find a billion dollars in your purse. You decide to try anyway. What could it hurt? At worst it's an excuse to tell her you love her.

Quinn stands up and walks to the window. You carefully watch her while listening to the dial tone. Instead of a standard hello, which you no longer expect from your girlfriend, you get, "Guess who is going to be home early tonight to take you on a date?"

"You are?" you're praying for her to say yes. You haven't had a date night in over a month and you really need this time with her. Of course when you spot Quinn looking at you, you sigh. You completely forgot about Quinn. You lick your lips before she can add anything, "I'm sorry babe. I'm going to a show with Quinn…"

The phone is promptly yanked from your hand by the blonde real estate agent. She puts it to her ear with a smile, "Santana would love to." She pauses for Brittany to speak before saying, "Hey Brittany." Her smile gets wider and you love that you can't think of a person in the world that Brittany doesn't have that affect on. "Of course….I would love to…see you later."

As she hands your phone back to you, you can see a hint of sadness in her eyes. You tilt your head and as, "Are you sure? I mean, you're only going to be here for a few days."

She slowly shakes her head, "You never get to see her. You need some quality time. This way I'm gone for a few hours so I don't have to hear the reason you two can't keep a roommate. We can meet for dinner or something." She gives you a smile that tells you that she knows you and Brittany are pushing through some hard times. Her gaze is also slightly envious. You know why and you're not going to call her on it.

You stand up and pull her to you in a, rarely seen from you, hug, "Thanks Q. We need this." And you really do. You feel Quinn hold you close and wonder how sad she really is and why she puts up with it.

Brittany texts you and tells you to bring Quinn to the deli that you two eat at down the street. Brittany throws herself onto Quinn who just laughs. Your girlfriend tells Quinn, "I've missed you so much. You really need to come up here more often."

Quinn smiles, "Or you guys could come back more often," Quinn offers. Your eyes bounce back to Brittany who scrunches up her nose. You giggle at her face. She's so damn adorable.

"I'd rather cut off my-" you trail off. You were about to med student geek out. So you shake your head, "I almost said something really nerdy." That's been happening a lot lately and if you want people to think you're normal and not super brainy med student that you need to stop.

"Phalanges?" Brittany asks, teasing you. She bumps her shoulder with yours and takes your hand under the table. You look at her with a smile that never seems to go away when you're with her. She kisses you before turning to Quinn and asking her about everything going on. You've told her some of what Quinn had told you on the phone, but not all of it. You tell Brittany that Quinn's sad, but not exactly why. You notice that when Britt brings up Quinn's marriage, she turns the question around and asks Brittany about her work or something. You decide to bring it up with Quinn later so Brittany doesn't get down about it. You dip your fry into the ketchup and bite your lip, trying to figure out how to get Quinn to stay.

When you're all done, Quinn offers to pay, but Brittany refuses. You're not rich by any means, but she makes enough money so that you live comfortably. Your apartment is tiny because it's where she lived when she was a broke dancer with a roommate. Now she's a dancer/choreographer who has a leech of a girlfriend who is working her ass off to get through med school and you're both too scared to move to a bigger, nicer place. The entertainment industry is a finicky place and there's no telling if this show she's working on now will take off and if it does, how long it will run for.

Quinn hugs you both before taking off to the show alone. You feel bad for her going alone, but you really do need this time with Brittany. When you look up from your plate, you see that she's looking at you trying to figure out what you're thinking. You smile at her and rest your forehead against hers, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replies, kissing the tip of your nose.

You giggle and pull away. Taking a sip of the milkshake you got to share, you ask, "So, this date thing? Is this it or are we actually going to do something?" You kind of just want to take her back to the apartment and ravish her until neither one of you can stand.

She grins, "I was going to take you to the Natural History Museum so you can nerd out, but you look like you just want to go home."

"Excuse me," you pull her to you, "But you nerd out too. Don't kid yourself."

She mischievously smirks, "So the museum? The skeletal exhibit is closing next week."

You can't imagine your life without Brittany. She's never been stupid. She just learns differently. She gets bored in classrooms, but she'll absorb everything a museum has to offer. No one can't present her with information and expect her to know it. You know that she needs context. That's why she's so damn good at dancing. She can move and make everything connect the way it's supposed to. You lean in and pause before you kiss her, "Smart girls are hot." You move in for the kiss and mesh your lips together.

She hums into the kiss, "Mhmm."

You peruse the museum for a few hours hand in hand before going home. You shed your jacket and toss it onto the back of the couch.

"That was fun," she leans on the kitchen counter, "We should go more often."

It slips out of your mouth that you could if she didn't work so much. So your adult filter doesn't work all the time.

Her eyes fall to the ground and her hands slip into the back pockets of her jeans, "It's only a little while longer I guess. I really miss you, I do. I just…it's my job."

"It's not just your job. It's your whole damn life," you spat, knowing that you shoulder. Knowing that this evening is one of few alone with her. You just can't seem to stop your mouth, "If you could have sex with it, it'd be your girlfriend too."

Her eyes go from apologetic to angry. "You know it's not like that."

In a matter of seconds, you're both blown up, yelling at each other. Finally she throws her hands up in the air and stalks off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

You sink onto the couch. When you hear the shower turn on you know that it'll be no use talking to her for a while. She's just not going to talk to you and you'll stumble over your words and say something stupid, starting another battle. You push off of the couch and go into the guest room, picking up a couple of your books on the way.

"San. San, wake up."

Your eyes slowly open up. You must have fallen asleep reading. You look up at Quinn with a groan, "Hmm?"

"What are you doing in here?" she asks, sitting back on the bed.

Your legs are sore as you try to stand. You forget about the book in your lap and it goes crashing to the floor. You run a hand through your hair, "We had a fight," you blink your eyes back to life and sigh, "Don't worry about it. I'll be on the couch."

As you walk out of the room, Quinn grabs your hand and asks, "A fight about what?"

You drop your head, ashamed of what you did and what you said, "In my med school induced haze I told her that she works too much." You pull your hand away from Quinn and rub your face, "She apologized and was all sweet about it and I said something stupid and she got mad and I started yelling…" You shake your head, "It was stupid."

She takes your hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes are sympathetic, "Tell her you're sorry and go to bed. You love her San. Why would you want to be away from her?"

You swallow. You know she's right. You've never really wanted to be away from Brittany in your whole life. Finally you nod, "You're right."

She grins, "Of course I am." You're grateful for her breaking the sour mood in the room. She let's go of your hand and stands up.

You search for a subject change and finally ask, "How was the play?"

Her eyes glaze over and she sounds completely in love with this thing, "It was amazing." She pauses, blinking the dreamy clouds out of her eyes, "I ran into Rachel and we went out for drinks."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, starting your walk of embarrassment back to your bedroom. You want to keep the conversation lingering for a few more minutes so you can scrounge up what's left of your pride to offer to Brittany as an apology. "How was that?"

She shrugs, but a light in her eyes makes you think she had more fun that she was letting on. "It was alright. We're going out again tomorrow night. You guys are more than welcome to come with."

You glance back at the bedroom door imagining what Brittany's going to be doing tomorrow night when you go out with Quinn and Rachel. Working duh. "I'm down. We'll have to ask B if she's going to be working or not." You say, but you know that she will be. You're still desperate to not confront your girlfriend so you keep the conversation staggering on, "What time is your conference thingy tomorrow?"

Quinn let's out a fake gag, "First seminar is at nine. Remodel: Bathroom vs. Kitchen."

Your day tomorrow isn't looking that bad compared to hers. You joke with her, "Oh damn, I wish I didn't have class. I'd so be there."

Your friend puts her hands on your back and propels you forward out of the guest room, "Don't be jealous that I get to stare at toilets for two hours."

"Only if you're not jealous that I get to stare at bedpans," you counter, stopping at the door to your bedroom. You have a brief stare down with the doorknob before resting your hand on it.

"Goodnight," Quinn adds.

You look back at Quinn who is donning a sly smirk. You shoot another one back her way and open the door, slipping inside. You quietly close the door behind you. The room is dark, but you can see her stunning eyes watching you in the dark. She's laying on her side of the bed, under the blanket you both share.

You don't bother to change into some sleeping clothes. You just take off your pants and crawl into the bed in only your underwear and t-shirt. You're nervous because she doesn't move to you like she usually does. Instead she just watches you. You nervously

You slide under the blanket and scoot so that you're pressed against her. Your arms encase her and you kiss her cheek before whispering, "I'm so, so sorry."

Her whisper back is weak and her voice breaks when she answers, "Me too."

Tears jump to your eyes knowing that you caused that pain in her. You squeeze her tight against you, "I was wrong. I love you."

You're nervous that you fucked up really huge this time until her arms make their way around your waist, holding you. "I love you too." She tucks her head under your chin and sighs heavily.

"Go to sleep baby. You're exhausted," you murmur and then kiss her forehead. She has a long day tomorrow at work and needs her rest. You roll your eyes at yourself. Even in your thoughts when you mention her work you sound pissed off.

"Mhmm," is her reply and she easily slips to sleep in your arms.

You lay awake for a few more hours, your stomach tying itself into knots over upsetting Brittany, never seeing her, your insane workload from med school, and life in general. Finally you think yourself to sleep a mere four hours before you have to be up again.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake up like you usually do: to Brittany's blaring alarm. You really want to just throw the damn thing against the wall and hold onto Brittany until she gives up getting you off and skips work. But before you can grab onto Brittany, she's out of the bed and in the shower.

You angrily trudge to the kitchen and angrily make the coffee and angrily toast a bagel. You've never been a morning person. Less sleep makes you less of a morning person. After getting Brittany's dance clothes out of the drying and putting them in her bag, you pour yourself some coffee and plop down on the couch to turn on the TV. The news is on an you don't bother changing it. There's an aerial view of a six car pile up on the highway with the drivers standing around yelling and cursing each other and it makes you feel marginally better that someone is having a worse morning than you.

After a few more stories you feel like you're not that bad off. You're better off than those poor people that were stuck in the elevator up to the Space Needle and way better off than the guy who took a firecracker to his junk during a celebration. Yup, the news makes you feel better about yourself. You start to worry if there's something wrong with that when Brittany walks into the living room.

She takes her place in your lap and leans back into you. She smells fresh and clean and you don't resist dropping a kiss just below her ear, inhaling her smell as you do so.

"Good morning," she smiles tentatively, waiting to see how you're feeling this morning.

You smile back and kiss her lips, allowing her to guide the kiss. When she pulls away she giggles and leans back into you. You both turn to the TV and you drink your coffee watching the tragedy that is life on this planet unfold.

"Look at you two all grown up, drinking coffee and watching the news," Quinn's voice penetrates your thoughts. You completely forgot that she was here.

Brittany giggles again and glances inside the empty coffee cup you've been trying to drink the very last drop out of for ten minutes. She lifts the cup out of your hands and gives you a kiss before following Quinn to the kitchen.

The apartment is tiny and you can hear them talking above the TV. Quinn asks Brittany to come out with you guys tonight and Brittany tells her that she'll try, but she uses her I'm-just-saying-this-to-placate-you voice. There's no way Brittany is going to ditch her work to go out. And just like that your mood sours.

Brittany hands you your coffee with a nervous smile because she knows you heard her. You just take the coffee and turn back to the TV. You can relate to the wildfire that's engulfing forest upon forest on the screen. A ringing sounds through your apartment and it's not yours or Brittany's. You call to Quinn that her phone is ringing.

Your girlfriend shifts her weight from one foot to the other before picking up her dance bag. She sits down next to you and takes your arm, holding your bicep with both of her hands. She kisses your cheek and tells you that she loves you.

You melt at that and close your eyes. You can feel her breathing on your cheek and how her fingers softly, but firmly grip your arm. You just want everything else to fade away. You want to disappear into a nothingness with Brittany as your only companion. You tilt your head toward her and her lips catch your forehead. "Call me if you need anything," she whispers.

You keep your eyes closed and grit your teeth. You need her. You need her here with you. There's an ache nibbling at your insides, slowly eroding your resolve until it starts crumbling under it's own weight. You take a deep breath and nod, acknowledging her.

With one last kiss to your cheek, Brittany disappears. You drop your head into your hands and take a few second to place band-aids over your crumbling resolve before getting up to gather your things for school.

Quinn steps out of her room and asks you, "Are you still coming out tonight?"

You nod firmly, "Yes. I need a drink…or ten." You need to let loose and have some fun. That's become a foreign concept to you lately. You tell Quinn that you're leaving for class and you'll be back at three. She waves at you, still on the phone with who you assume is Rachel.

You walk the few blocks to your school and schlep up three flights of stairs to get to your first class. You sit in the middle of the room and get called on twice (and answer correctly twice cause you're a med school rock star). Then you sit back and wonder how the hell half of these people get into med school. Especially Columbia. You close your eyes and count to seven. That's pretty much as far as you get before you decide you're surrounded by idiots who are going to kill people. You hand shoots up interrupting the guy trying to explain something behind you.

The professor looks surprised, but nods to you, giving you the floor. You're not a teacher's pet or a know-it-all, but damn you cannot listen to that endless nonsensical babble for much longer.

You go through the rest of your class, unfortunately the same way. You sit in the library during your lunch break studying like your scholarship depends on it. Because it does. When your last class is done, you walk home and continue studying.

You're so lost in your surgical suture techniques manual that you almost don't hear the door open. Your eyes flicker to the clock and see that it's almost three thirty. Maybe Brittany took the evening off finally. You turn to the door from the couch and when Quinn walks through the door, your heart falls. You force a smile, "Hey Q."

She walks over to the couch. Her face is sympathetic and you know that she knows you thought for a brief moment she was Brittany. You feel bad for that.

When she drops her purse on the table and sits down next to you she asks, "How was class?"

"Same ole, same ole," you draw your knees to your chest in what has become your favorite corner of the couch. You reenact the majority of your day for her in a few words, "Oh look a blood clot, class what do we do? Wrong, here's what you do." You close your book and toss it onto the coffee table, "I should have gone to real estate school."

She laughs, "I should have gone to med school."

Not going to med school right now sounds heavenly. You could go to Brittany's practices with her and sit in the theatre reading novels and watching her dance all day. Then you could come home and make her dinner and no be exhausted all the time. "By all means," you gesture to your stacks and stacks of medical books around the room, "My schedule is in my phone. I just want to sleep."

Quinn rubs your shin through the material of your jeans, adding, "Take a nap."

"I need to study if we're going out," you tell her. Getting behind in your reading is like horrible. You spend way more time reading at night and get less sleep.

"Rachel said we're going to a karaoke nigh uptown," Quinn leans back on her side of the couch.

You chuckle to yourself. "I'm not surprised." It is Berry after all. You lull your head back, "It's cool though. I probably need to let loose."

Quinn agrees with you. Your phone conversations that you've had with her are telling you that you both do.

You pick up your book and start studying again, giving Quinn the remote to the TV. You've become good at blocking out everything except the words on the page so when she tells you she's going for a walk you almost don't hear her. You're a little weary about letting her go alone, but she tells you that she'll be fine. You're still iffy so you tell her to call you if she needs anything.

You lose track of all time when you start studying until Quinn comes home and tells you to get ready. It doesn't take you long because you're pretty damn hot all the time. When Quinn steps out of her room you have to admit, she does too. "I'm impressed," you slip on your second heel and stand up straight, "Where are we meeting her highness?"

Quinn looks giddy and you can't help, but wonder why. Karaoke night? Not the most exciting thing ever. However she does live in Lima so this is probably like Disneyworld for her. "We're going to meet her at the club. Her assistant called me an hour ago."

"For real?" you run your hands over the dress that hugs your entire body, "That's so weird. I can't help, but picturing her in animal sweaters and argyle skirts." And if she's wearing something like that out tonight you're taking lots of pictures.

You pick up your purse and your phone off of the coffee table. You haven't gotten a text or call from Brittany all day. A sigh escapes your lips when you slip your phone into your purse. When you look up you see Quinn with her sympathetic face on again. So you force a smile and ask, "Ready?"

When you stalk into the club, you're pissed. The damn taxi driver took the longest way possible to get to the damn club. He wasn't lost. He was racking up the miles to charge you. Ass.

Once inside you feel a little better. Everyone is having a good time. You lead Quinn to the back room where you can hear someone butchering "Crazy on You." There's more people here than you expected.

You spot Rachel first. You're struck by how different she looks. So poised and elegant sitting in the VIP section, up some stairs and roped off from the rest of the club. "Hey Q," you point her out. When you see Quinn spot Rachel you, lead the way over to the two VIP bouncers. They both glare hard at you and Quinn, but luckily before you tell them to call the cops because someone stole their necks, Rachel bounds down the stairs and throws her arms around Quinn's waist like they haven't seen each other in years. "You made it!"

She pulls away from Quinn and smiles at you, giving you a brief hug, "It's good to see you Santana."

"Yeah you too," you add pulling away, "You look nice."

She thanks you and returns the compliment before grabbing Quinn's hand and your hand, pulling you both up the stairs. There are two guys sitting on one of the couches, smiling at you and Quinn. Rachel drops your hand to introduce the guys, "These are some of my cast mates."

The one with darker hair zeroes in on you. He politely extends his hand to you, "I'm Andrew."

"Santana," you answer, shaking his hand.

He grins. "I don't like you already. You're far too pretty. People aren't going to notice how pretty I am."

The joke is corny, but you laugh anyway. Also, you really believe that he thinks he is really pretty.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks, as the VIP waitress walks up.

"Shots," you tell him and the waitress.

Andrew turns to her, "Five please." He looks to you, "Vodka okay with you?"

You nod and just like that the VIP waitress is gone. She returns quicker than you've ever see a cocktail waitress move. After the first round of shots, you all order different drinks. Andrew orders a scotch and you get a double vodka RedBull. You talk with Andrew while you drink. He's asking about med school and you ask him how the show is going. It's light chatter and means nothing. You're just here to drink.

So you order another and glance over at Quinn. Rachel's sitting in her lap and they both look pretty tipsy. You shake your head. They're so lightweights.

Before you're done with your second drink, you look down and find Quinn on the stage, microphone in hand. You let out a smile. She needs this. She needs to sing again. When Quinn floors the crowd with her first line, your jaw drops. You didn't know that she had that in her.

When tears start falling down her cheeks you swallow. You can feel the tingle of tears build up in your eyes, but you push them back. The song ends and she darts off the stage toward the bathroom. You set your drink down and run after her. When you pass Rachel, you see that she's bawling.

You fight the crowd and finally get to the bathroom where you find Quinn standing over a sink, fixing her make up. You lean on the sink next to her and ask, "What's up Q?"

She exhales and drags her eyes from the floor up to you, "Just…everything. Singing that song always makes me emotional. I shouldn't have done it when we're all here having a good time."

You trace her face with your eyes. It's laden with sadness and anger. You've seen it before and you don't like it. You pull her into a hug, "It's cool. Rachel and I know you're going through some hard stuff. She's probably on her way in here right now because she started bawling before you did."

"Really?" she breaks the hug.

You nod and wipe away a stray tear on Quinn's face with the back of your fingers, "If you tell anyone I'll deny it, but I got a little misty too."

She smiles and hugs you again. This time you pull away Rachel is standing there. She looks nervous when she says, "That was beautiful Quinn."

"I really didn't mean to make you guys cry," your best friend states.

You turn to the mirror to fix your hair, "I didn't cry." You can practically feel Quinn rolling her eyes behind you.

"C'mon, let's go have fun. I'm only here for another day and I want a night to remember," you hear Quinn say.

"That's my girl," you smile and take her hand, pulling her and Rachel back into the club.

The shots you had Andrew order are waiting for you when you get back so you pick one up and offer a toast, "To James Brown."

"To New York City," Quinn grins.

"To friends," Rachel smiles at Quinn.

The guy you've deemed to be Rachel's boyfriend toasts to Broadway and Andrew just says "Cheers" and throws his shot back.

You hear the beginning beats of one of your favorite songs and smile, "This is my jam!" You grab Quinn's hand to pull her down to the floor to dance with you. But as soon as you get to the crowd you let go and start dancing. You don't care that you're dancing with yourself because in your head Brittany is right here with you, making you look bad and holding you close.

Suddenly, someone is holding you close and for a fleeting moment you think that Brittany came out after all, but you see that it's just Andrew. His hands hold onto your hips and he presses his body to your back. You're just drunk enough not to care. You don't tell him that if you'd met him in California while you were away from Brittany and trying to drink and sex your way into oblivion, it may have worked.

You look at him and you see the look in his eyes. He wants you and you kinda have been leading him on. You look around for Quinn but when you finally do spot her, she's doing solo shots in the VIP lounge. You decide you've lead Andrew on enough. You miss Brittany. You flag the VIP waitress down and order more. It's gonna be a long night.

You and Quinn are leaning on each other as you make your way to the door of the club. That is until you stumble. Quinn starts to tip over because her crutch disappeared. But David takes her arm to keep her from falling.

You're not sure what happened after that but Andrew left your side to break up a fight between David and a very large man.

You look to your side and see Rachel grab Quinn by the waist to keep her upright. You decide that you need to get Quinn out of here so you pull both girls outside and wait until Andrew and a bruised David joins you.

Then when you're going up the stairs to whoever's apartment is closest, you see Quinn elbow David in the ribs. You had to help Rachel get clothes on Quinn before the blonde puked then passed out.  
>The next thing you know your phone is ringing and it feels like someone did a craniotomy on your and put your phone inside your brain before closing you up. You feel around you and finally find it on the nightstand next to you.<p>

You check the screen and see Brittany's smiling face looking back at you. You press the green button and answer, "Hey baby."

"Hey," she answers and sounds out of breath, "Are you okay? You didn't come home last night."

You automatically feel guilty. You totally forgot to call her before you passed out. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. We were just out really late last night and…"

She cuts you off and asks you if you have Quinn. You answer her, "Yeah Q's here. She looks fine too."

Brittany let's out a relieved sigh. Her voice is quiet, which means that she's mad or sad, or a combination of both. "You didn't call. I was worried." You open your mouth to answer, but a car horn on her end cuts you off. She adds, "I gotta go. I'll see you at home. Love you."

"I'm sorry," you say, guilt ripping through your insides like a razor wired pinball, "I love you too. See you later." You hang up and bury your face in your pillow. And now you feel even more like shit than you did when you woke up.

"Where are we?" Quinn's groggy voice asks next to you.

"Casa de Berry I suppose," you got that from how much like flowers the pillows smell and how pristine the nightstand is kept. You close your eyes again when they start hurting and add, "It's way too damn bright in here."

There's quiet talking going on next to you and you assume that Rachel is now awake on the other side of Quinn. You pick your head up and catch Rachel telling you both that she's going to get coffee and breakfast.

"Thanks," you tell her because Quinn has fallen silent.

Once the door closes Quinn asks, "Did I do anything stupid?"

You grin, "Nah." She has her face buried in her pillow and judging by how much she drank last night, she has a wicked hangover. "Although you were a big baby when I tried to get you to change clothes. You fell on the bed twice because you thought you could do it yourself."

She turns her head toward you and looks you over before asking, "Did you have fun?"

You know she means something else by that, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You just drop your head back on your pillow and nod. Suddenly you remember a not so lucid conversation you had right before passing out. "Andrew asked me out again though."

When you look back at her, she asks, "What'd you tell him?"

You definitely know what that means. She thinks you're going to go out with him again. Your eyes narrow and you clench your jaw. You're seething when you finally ask, "What the fuck do you think I said?" You can tell she's starting to panic because she set you off, but she fucking deserves it if she thinks you would ever, ever cheat on Brittany, "Me and Brit may be having some issues, but I will never hurt her like that."

Quinn sighs her surrender, "I know S. I just wanted to know if you let him down easy or you were a bitch about it."

You fell your anger slip away. You misunderstood what she was getting at. "Oh. I told him that I'm with someone else. He asked if it was anyone as famous as him." You roll your eyes at the memory and confess, "I almost hit him, but I didn't."

She props her head up to have a face to face conversation with you. With a smile she adds, "I'm so proud."

You grin and continue, "I told him that she is a choreographer on Broadway. And she might not be as famous, but she is ten times as hot." You chuckle to yourself. The look on his face was priceless. "Anyway," you continue, "it turns out that they know each other and he told me that Brittany talks about me all the time, bragging on me being a med student and all. Then he asked me if I'd look at the rash on his back."

Quinn rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, "You better get used to that Dr. Lopez. Or Dr. Lopez-Pierce or-"

You shut that down fast, "Okay you're starting to sound like my mom." You sit up and cross your legs, "And I'll tell you what I tell her, I'll do what I want to do when I want to do it."

Quinn grins up at you, "Or more accurately, you'll do what Brittany wants you to do when she wants you to do it."

She's right and you roll your eyes. You have to at least weakly defend your badassness so you smack her in the face with a pillow, "I hate you."

After you hit Quinn she seems a little daze. Probably too much movement too soon with the worst hangover she's ever had. She jumps out of the bed and you start to get up with her, "Do you have to puke again?"

"Again?" she asks, looking a little embarrassed.

"I didn't actually know it happened until you and Berry got back to bed at like four," you explain. Rachel was escorting a zombied Quinn back to the bed rubbing your blonde friend's back. You rub your head and get up off of the bed just in case Quinn needs to bolt to the bathroom. You look around at the deep colored woods of the matching furniture. "This is not really what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Quinn asks, her eyes scanning the walls.

You smirk, "A gold star shaped bed and a wall of mirrors so she could look at herself all the time." Of course that's what you pictured her high school bedroom to look like as well. But she's still high school, bottom of the social totem pole Rachel to you. You zero in on a bunch of pictures hanging next to the dresser. You grin, "Check it out Q." It was a picture of your first National Show Choir win. You can see the pure elation of Brittany's face in that picture. She hugged you so hard that day you can still feel her arms around you. Your voice drops when you add, "Brittany has that picture somewhere too." The aforementioned blonde is mad at you and you think that you should probably stop on the way home after class to get her some flowers or something.

At that moment Rachel called you both to breakfast. The conversation over breakfast was depressing because Quinn talks about not really having a dream or a life or any sort of happiness in her life at the moment. You know she'll never be happy in Lima.

You and Rachel question her about her dream and her motives for staying. Apparently you question too far because she tells you both to stop looking at her before running to the bathroom.

"I got this," you tell Rachel who is moving to stand as well.

You knock quietly on the door, "Q? I'm sorry. Please come out. I gotta get to class but I'm not leaving until I know you're okay." You pause trying to think of a way to get her out. You say the first thing that pops into your head, "If there's something important at the beginning of my class and I miss it and kill someone on the operating table it'll be on you."

You count to four before the door opens and Quinn stands there smiling at you. You pull her into your arms. She limply leans against you and sighs, "I'm sorry. I guess I really am fucked up."

You chuckle. Yeah Quinn's a little skewed, but not completely so, "You're a little fucked up, but nothing that can't be fixed." You take a step back and look her over, "Can I leave now? You're not going to try to drown yourself in the toilet or anything?"

A smile breaks out on Quinn's face which was your intention. "No. No toilet suicide."

"I gotta get going," you pull her into another hug. You're not usually huggy with people, but Quinn's going through a rough time. Being married to Finn can't be easy for anyone, especially someone who lost interest in the marriage a few months into it. You need to find a way to get Quinn to stay or at least file for divorce. When she talks to you on the phone, she sounds so…trapped. "So I'm going to leave you in the care of the superstar." They seem to be becoming great friends fast and maybe Rachel can keep her mind off things. "If you need anything call me and for the love of god, don't go to that stupid conference. If you do you probably will kill yourself."

"But I-"

"Are you really learning anything?" you ask. You know she's supposed to go for work and all, but how much can you really learn about granite whatevers.

"Well no, but-"

You cut her off with a quirked eyebrow, "Then you need to enjoy the city while you're still here." You start walking back toward the kitchen with her following you.

"You're right," she admits with a sigh, "Britt's working today?"

You can't help, but roll your eyes. The subject of Brittany and work is a tender one and every time someone brings it up, they dredge up the annoyance as well, "When is she not?"

Quinn walks you all the way to the door and hugs you again, "Someday you'll be a surgeon and she'll practically own Broadway along with our resident actress," she tosses a teasing look back at Rachel who is watching you both, "and you'll have all the time in the world together to be grotesquely affectionate and annoyingly adorable together. Just give it time."

You swallow what she says and instead of remaining serious and down about it, you revert to your six year old self (okay fine your ages four to seventeen year old self) by stomping your feet and pouting, "But I want her now." You hear Quinn laughing and add, "Thanks for breakfast Berry."

You head down the posh halls of the apartment building and finally find the elevator. On the way down you text Brittany to see if she can meet you for lunch and when you're walking out to the street you're disappointed again. She has an interview. Of course. You'd think you'd know better than to ask by now.


	3. Chapter 3

Your classes go much the same way they usually do, except that today your professor asks you to stay after class. She puts her glasses on top of her head as she puts her papers away in a briefcase, "I assume you've applied for the second year internship program."

You readjust the strap on your backpack, "Um, no. I thought that the only people that get that are in the top five percent of the class." Because it's the most prestigious thing at this school and everyone wants it. An internship in the second semester of the second year of med school is unheard of. You read about it and threw the pamphlet away because it always goes to an egg head with hug glasses and Einstein hair.

She rifles through some papers before presenting one to you. "You didn't see this." You look it over. It's the class rank, which isn't going to be posted for a few days. Your mouth drops open and you close it quickly when she yanks the paper back. You're not just in the top five percent. You're the second highest ranked person in the entire medical school. "That-I…this is," you clench your fist and exhale, "Should I?"

"I'm the head of the board that picks the interns," she picks up her briefcase, ready to leave, "And I'm not supposed to comment, but you are my pick, that is assuming that you can get your application in by five p.m. today."

"I'll have it done in an hour," you blurt out.

She shoots you a wink, "Bring it by my office and drop it with my secretary." With a last curt nod of her head, she strides out the door.

This is unbelievable. First of all you're not one of those egg heads that spends all day in the library reading up on the latest surgical procedures. But you are one that spends all your free time in your apartment reading up on anything medical. You correct your classmates when they're wrong because what the hell is going to happen if they thing they're right when they diagnose someone and kill them. Well that and you like to assert your dominance. Some things never change and your need to be on top hasn't either.

But you have a life. Your life doesn't revolve around school. Your life revolves around a Broadway choreographer. You whip your phone out, excited to tell her the news. You don't bother texting this time.

"Hello?" Brittany answers.

"You will never guess what just happened to me," you say excitedly completely forgetting that you're supposed to be in trouble with her. When you're done explaining to her she gushes over how proud she is and even tells one of the dancers while she's still on the phone with you.

You walk toward the medical library to type out your application. You interrupt Brittany who is telling someone else even though you're sure no one there knows that it's fairly impressive. "Babe, I gotta type this out so I can have it on my professor's desk in an hour."

"Okay," Brittany is absolutely giddy and you love her just a little bit more for being insanely proud of your accomplishment. "I'm so happy for you! We have to celebrate today. I'll text you in a little while."

"Okay," you stop outside the library and wait to get off the phone before going in, "I love you."

"I love you too," before she hangs up you hear her tell someone else, "Santana got like the best internship ever cause she's so smart-"

You look at your phone for a little while just smiling. No matter what happens with you, you know that you and Brittany are solid enough to get over it. She's incredibly forgiving and you love her enough to never let go or walk away.

After you get your application to your professor's office you run to your next class. You walk in a little late, but the old man who teaches the class doesn't seem to notice because he's trying to work out how to use the projector.

You look at the frazzled professor and students who are scratching their heads. You're not learning anything from this class today. You pick up your bag and make your way out of the room.

When you get home, you do what you always do and break out the books. You don't get far into your studies when you hear the front door open. You figure it's Quinn so you don't rush to put your things down. But you see who is really is out of the corner of your eye. You stand up and meet Brittany by the front door and she throws her arms around you. You just hold her to you, a smile gracing your lips. You'll never get to hold her enough.

When you open your eyes, Quinn and Rachel are standing at the open door watching you with smiles that tell you that they think you're adorable. Finally you ask, "Not that I don't love this, but to what do I owe this?" You keep your hold on Brittany, but pull away enough to talk to Quinn and Rachel, "No one's dead or hurt right?"

Quinn smirks and leans closer to Rachel, "Just Brittany's brother."

Brittany giggles and you raise an eyebrow. Brittany doesn't have a brother. Her eyes gleam when she tells you, "Rachel called my director and told him that my brother was in an accident and that she was on her way to pick me up."

That was genius. "Why didn't I think of that?" you lean forward and brush your lips against Brittany's. It's been too long since you've just kissed her. It's always too long.

The door closing pulls you out of the kiss. You see Rachel and Quinn standing really close together. Rachel's eyes are nervously shifting around the room before she sees you looking at her. She forces a smile and says, "I thought that since Quinn is leaving tomorrow, despite my best attempts to keep her here," Rachel's eyes flicker to Quinn who is thoughtfully biting the inside of her cheek, "We should all spend the evening together."

You nod firmly. You really don't want Quinn to leave. It's nice having someone to talk to. You call Quinn quite a lot, but you like it when she's here and you know she likes being here more than being in Lima. "I agree."

Brittany leaves your side and hugs Quinn. You know Brittany well enough to know that she feels bad for not spending enough time with Quinn. "I'll miss you, like a lot."

Quinn smiles sadly, tilting her head down on Brittany's shoulder, "I'll miss you too Britt."

"But she'll be back," Rachel adds, "A lot. Because if she doesn't we'll all go back to Lima and kidnap her."

Brittany pulls back and takes Quinn's hands, swinging them between the two blondes, "You better."

"I will." Quinn states. You know she's lying. You're sure you're the only one that knows too. She sentenced to a lifetime in Lima and you're sentenced to solitary confinement with conjugal visits the few hours a day that Brittany's isn't working.

You grit your teeth together to keep the tears down. When you let out a deep sigh, Quinn's forced smile falls from her face. She takes the few steps to you and pauses in front of you. She just opens her arms and you step up to her.

You know that Quinn hates her life and although you talk on the phone frequently, that's never enough for either of you. You feel the tears start to win so you close your eyes, hoping no one sees. "Why can't you just say?" you're surprised at how softly that came out.

Quinn hugs you tighter, "I'm sorry San." With a depressing sigh, you know that now your best friend needs you to be strong for her so you beat the tears back and become strong for her. At least you have Brittany if only for a few hours a day. She has no one to count on in Lima.

She pulls back and shakes away her feelings, "So where are we going?"

"Do you want to go clubbing or have a low key night?" Rachel asks her.

You watch as Brittany takes Quinn's hand. Quinn tentatively smiles and Brittany beams back. You see Quinn swallow hard, "Low key. Definitely low key."

"We should hit up that new lounge on 34th," you say catching Brittany's eyes, "Have you seen it?"

"Baby I haven't see anything, but the inside of the theatre for weeks," Brittany detaches from Quinn and attaches to you. You can see the recurring apology in her eyes. She wants you to not be mad at her and when she looks at you like that, you definitely can't.

You're about to add something when Rachel's phone rings. She steps away to have a conversation you're not interested in. What you are interested in is the fire in Quinn's eyes when she watches Rachel focusing on the person on the phone. She seems to know who it is and greatly dislikes them. You see Brittany watching Quinn too and that means that there's something there you're not noticing. Your girlfriend has a sixth sense when it comes to people and she can read them

When Rachel walks back to the group of you three, she loops her arm through Quinn's with a smile, "Okay, so where are we going?"

Quinn's eyes bounce from Rachel to Brittany and she mutters out, "I-uh-gotta make a call. I'll be right back." She quickly makes her way into her room and closes the door.

You look at Brittany who just shrugs. You shrug back and look over to Rachel who is looking at the bedroom door, perplexed.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Rachel asks you and Brittany, "I've had quite a day dragging Quinn all over the island."

Brittany takes Rachel's hand and pulls her to the couch where you all end up sitting. "So Santana," Rachel turns to you, "How's school going?"

You shrugs, "It's going alright I guess."

"It's going way better than alright," Brittany interrupts you and look at Rachel excitedly, "San's going to get this awesome internship because she's in the top five percent of her class and she's so much smarter than everyone else."

Rachel smiles at you, "That's great. We can celebrate that tonight as well if you'd like."

You shake your head, "It's Quinn's last night."

You can see the sadness in Rachel's face as she nods. You wonder how good of friends she and Quinn could have become over the past few days. "I wish she'd stay. We just got to be friends."

Brittany reaches over and rubs Rachel's back.

The door to the bedroom opens and Quinn walks out. Her eyes land on Rachel, "Do you want to talk to one of your biggest fans in Lima?"

Rachel gets off of the couch and takes the phone, "Sure."

Quinn hands off the phone and watches Rachel walk into the kitchen before plopping down on the couch between you and Brittany. Your girlfriend puts her head on Quinn's shoulder and asks, "Who is that?"

"It's my mom," Quinn hugs Brittany to her. You can tell she's avoiding your eyes.

So you narrow your eyes and tilt your head. Finally Quinn accidentally makes eye contact and you now that she was crying in the bedroom. You run your fingers through Brittany's hair and ask her to go get your black purse out of the closet.

She smiles at you and kisses the top of Quinn's head before kiss you on the lips. Then she walks into the bedroom, leaving you alone with Quinn. You set your gaze on her, "Why were you crying Q?"

Quinn's eyes grace the floor and your stomach gets tight with worry. "I…I called Finn to make sure he remembered that I'd be come home tomorrow and now we both know we're getting a divorce."

You thought that was what Quinn wanted. It's one more step in the direction to her happiness, "Do you not want to?"

"I do," she looks up at you, "I just…It hurts you know? I mean…my life up until now has been…"

"Sucky?" you ask with a playful smile, "Shitty? A farce?"

Quinn pushes at you with her forearm, "Yeah that."

Brittany walks back in with your purse and sits between you two. "No fighting." Brittany's brilliant eyes show that she's a level excited that only occurs in Brittany.

Rachel finishes up her convo with Quinn's mom and walks over to the couch, sitting next to Quinn, addressing her, "You didn't tell me that your mom was a Broadway aficionado."

"I didn't know," Quinn answers.

"So," you check your phone for the time and decide to get the show on the road, "Are we ready?"

"Always," Rachel grins.

Brittany kisses you sweetly before standing and pulling you up with her. Out in the hallway, Quinn lags behind with Brittany so you and Rachel are up front.

"We should grab a cab," Rachel offers, trying to start some semblance of a conversation with you.

You shake your head, "It's hell getting a cab here because we're in the middle of the block. We can just walk. It's like three blocks away."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks.

You nod, "We'll be fine. Promise."

And like you promised you all got to the bar in one piece. After a few shots, you're sipping on a vodka RedBull, Rachel and Quinn are drinking wine and Brittany's swiftly drinking her screwdriver. Your girlfriend let's out her killer smile and pulls Quinn out of the booth. There's music in this bar, but it's not loud and it's not really dancing music. But Brittany makes the most of it. She and Quinn gyrate around, one more gracefully than the other.

Brittany always amazes you with her ability to make the world her dance floor. She doesn't care who is looking or what they think because she's having fun. You've always wanted to me more like her in that respect.

It doesn't take long for Quinn to shuffle back to the table with Brittany bouncing along behind her. She catches your eyes and you know what she wants to do so you stand up before she can ask. She beams and grabs your hand pulling you to the open space again.

Brittany holds you close, your bodies moving together like they were made for it. And you know they were. You were meant for her and she for you and that's how it always was and always will be.

She sings along with the music, serenading you with the outdated, barely danceable song. You can't help, but smile. This makes up for all the nights where you're along. For all the meals you eat by yourself and all the hours you spend waiting for her to come home. She brightens you world. The hard times hurt, but the good times, though lately few and far between, far outshine the hardships.

"Can we go to the pier?" Brittany asks you out of nowhere.

You sigh, because you can never say no. You two have been chased off a pier a few blocks from here more than once. The security guard is nice and Brittany is adorable so he just shakes his balding head when he makes you leave.

Rachel and Quinn walk arm in arm following you and Brittany. Your girlfriend opens the chain link fence like she owns it and walks out onto the pier. A strong gust of wind hit her and you put your arm around her waist like the wind would blow her into the water. You worry about things like that. You worry about Brittany because you feel responsible for her even though she's proven that she's fine all on her own.

She smiles her million-dollar smile at you and pulls you into her body. "I won't fall in."

"I know…" you lean your forehead on hers, "I just…" She giggles and you laugh with her, "Shut up."

She kisses you softly murmuring, "I love you."

"I love you too," you answer. With a deep breath, you look up at the sky. It's the reason you come out here. Brittany doesn't like not being able to see the stars from your apartment so you both went out walking one night and found this place. "Hey Britt," you kiss the side of her head and point up in the sky, "Aquarius is up."

She looks up and follows your finger, "Awesome." She looks around naming a bunch of constellations and you follow her for a few until you spot the security guard lumbering toward you. "Britts, we gotta go."

She sees where you're looking and smiles at the security guard. His name is Phil or Fred or something equally Security Guard-esque. You and Brittany start walking to the shore and Quinn and Rachel follow. Phil/Fred/Other shakes his head as you file past him and Brittany grins at him. You feel like he looks forward to this intrusion just to see Brittany. You know you would.

You notice Quinn looking at you and let out a small smile. You really don't want her to go. You really, really don't want her to go and you know that Rachel's been trying to get her to stay all night. You want that to work. You miss your friend and you know she misses you. You sigh and break eye contact with her. She leaving tomorrow and you need to get a grip.

After you stop for ice cream and Rachel explains to Brittany what a vegan is and why, you're sulking. Brittany pledges her future veganism and you want to hit yourself in the head. You like ice cream and chocolate and cheese. You can't live without cheese. Nachos, grilled cheese, and….great now you're hungry.

Being the responsible future doctor, when you get back to your apartment you pass out the water bottles. After gulping down half of your bottle, you find Brittany hugging Quinn. Quinn asks, "What's wrong B?"

"Santana's sad and she wants to hug you like this so I'm doing it for her," Brittany explains and you cross your arms and look down. Brittany's so right. You've been pushing back all these feelings all night and now there's no more avoiding them. You feel like your only friend is leaving you. She's not technically your only friend, but she's the only one that matters.

You look back up at Quinn to see her smiling at you. You roll your eyes and find the floor again, tracing the lines of the linoleum. When you look back up Quinn is alone.

You know this is the part where you say your real goodbye. Tomorrow you'll hug and say goodbye, but this is the big one. Tomorrow is because you have to, but this is the one that really means goodbye.

You're uncomfortable with this much emotion so you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You clench your jaw and watch Quinn waiting for her to make the first move. If you do it you may end up crying which you really don't want to do. You start to tap your foot knowing that she doesn't want to make the first move either.

She finally takes the few steps to you, but pauses. You're already moving to her by then so you grip her by the waist and she holds onto your shoulders, her head resting on your shoulder.

You close your eyes and lean your head against hers, "This sucks."

"Yeah I know," she whispers back.

With one last gentle squeeze you pull away. That was your goodbye. Neither one of you were ever good that them, but that was perfect for the pair of you.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn hasn't even been gone for thirty minutes and you already feel lonely. You're alone in your apartment, cleaning up the guest room, which wasn't really all that dirty to begin with. You pick up some books you've already read and look for a shelf to put it on. Your eyes land on a dusty row of books. You guess you haven't read those since this was your room fresh from California and a hard life lesson. And Brittany was dating that guy…Bad train of thought.

You stack the books in your hand on top of the dusty ones and walk out of the room. You always feel weird being in that room. It's kinda like déjà vu. So you walk into your bedroom and fall onto the bed. You pull Brittany's pillow to your chest and bury your face in it.

When Brittany gets home, she presents you with flowers. After accepting the flowers, you pull her into a long hug, holding her against your body.

"Don't be sad baby," Brittany's voice is quiet. You know that she knew that you'd inevitably be saddened by Quinn's departure. She's trying to make it up to you.

"I'm sorry," you pull back with a forced smile, "Thanks for the flowers. They're gorgeous."

She kisses you softly and you close your eyes remembering the first time she kissed you. You were sad about something. It was high school and whatever it was, was stupid so you don't remember. You remember that her kiss made it all better. It gave you clarity and peace. Of course a few hours later, you were freaking the hell out because you wanted so badly for her to kiss you again.

A few minutes later, you find that you and Brittany are now cuddling on the couch. You're leaning back on her and she's running her fingers up and down your stomach. "You're lonely. I know you are."

"I'm not," you state although it's a lie. You lean into her, "I'm not lonely."

"Then why are you so sad that Quinn's leaving?"

You don't really have an answer. Well you do. You don't want to have to say your answer. You're sad what Quinn's leaving because you're lonely. But you shake your head. You're not one of those girls. You're tougher than that. You don't need anyone. Anyone but Brittany that is.

She sighs and kisses your cheek. You know that sigh. She's frustrated with you. You pretend not to notice and pick up the closest book to you.

"I'm going to bed," Brittany announces after about seven minutes of silence.

You follow her into the bedroom like you always do. After you both change and finish getting ready for bed, you meet, looking over the sheets at each other.

Your stomach drops to your feet and you get chills. You don't know what it is or how she does it, but Brittany always is the sexiest person on the planet to you.

She's the first to move to the bed and you quickly follow her, not wanting her head to hit her pillow without yours right next to it. Tonight you've decided to forgo any and all studying that you were planning to do. You switch off your lamp and pull her to you.

You want to make love to her until the sun comes up, but you can tell that she's tired so you're content to just hold her all night long.

"San?" she asks softly, her head nestled in the crook of your neck.

"Hmm?"

"Robot," she simply states.

You close your eyes at the word. It's the word that means that she wants a real, honest talk. You both came up with that word a long time ago and now when one of you says it like that, you enter into a candid conversation when you're both completely honest and open. She's the only person in the world you trust enough to have this agreement with.

"Okay," you kiss her head and wait for her to start the conversation.

"Were you lonely in California?" she asks like she doesn't really want to know the answer.

You think back to the nights where you'd drink until you'd black out. There were always people all around you, but yeah you were lonely. "Yeah," you reply quietly.

"Are you lonely now?"

You don't want to have this conversation. You just want to go to sleep now. Of course she doesn't drop it, so you answer into the dark of your bedroom, "Sometimes."

"I'm sorry," she grips you tighter, her arms locking in place around your waist.

"It's not your fault," you automatically say.

She sighs, "I know. I just…Do you think if we would have stayed together…we'd have like…I don't know. Would it be better now if we had stayed together?"

You sort of wonder that too. If you hadn't broken up a few days before you both left for colleges on opposite ends of the country. You were a bitch about it because you knew it would hurt horribly if you weren't. It hurt horribly anyway, but you effectively pushed Brittany away enough so that she might actually move on (something you wanted to hit yourself over the head with a frying pan for later).

But then you shake your head, "I think this is how it was supposed to be." You don't add that you think you'd end up with a relationship mirroring Finn and Quinn's where they simply live in the same house and not together. A dull, lifeless marriage of convenience and not of love. Well they're not together anymore so that pretty much makes your point for you. "It helped me realize how much you mean to me. Although I think I realized how much you mean to me two days after I left."

You can feel her smile warm her body and yours vicariously. "I love you Santana."

"I love you too Brittany," you sigh deeply. There are a ridiculously large amount of cliché things that you could tell her at this moment to tell her that she's the light in your wing or the wind beneath your life or some sappy shit like that. You just dip your head down and kiss her like you mean it. Like the four years you were in California were the worst years of your life because she wasn't in it.

She understands and kisses you back, deeper and harder than you expected. She rolls on top of you and rests her body flush against yours. You hold the back of her neck as her hands snake up your sides, pulling your shirt up with them.

You take your time with each other, not in any rush because you know that she's not going anywhere and she knows that you're not going anywhere. She finally falls asleep with your head on her chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beating of her heart.

Of course you can't sleep and after about half an hour of trying you roll over, turn on your lamp and pick up the closest book to you. Luckily it's your immunology book because you have an immunology test Friday.

Your phone buzzing on the nightstands jerks you out of your autoimmune disease trance another half an hour later. You pick up your phone and find that it's from Quinn. You up?

You close your book and type out an answer, Of course. Immunology test Friday. What's up? Besides us?

Her reply is almost immediate making you wonder if she's really okay. Just can't sleep. Frannie's couch is not comfortable.

You do miss Quinn. You miss having a close friend in this huge city so you answer with We have an extra bed.

There's not an answer for a while so you slip out of bed and call her. You know she's not asleep and if she's mad at you, you're going to apologize because her few phone calls a week keep you from going all Kevorkian on your classmates. When you hear the click of her answering her phone answering you ask, "Fall asleep?"

"No. I was just thinking," she answers. She sounds tired.

You step into your kitchen and get a glass down from the cabinet. "About?"

She sighs as you fill up your glass with water. "About how you guys want me in New York."

"You want to be here too," you state before taking a sip of your water. At least you hope she does.

"How do you know that?"

"Because everyone wants to be here," you smile, thinking that you could joke around with her and say that everyone wants to be here near you because you're so awesome, but you don't.

Her voice is quiet when she asks, "What do you think I should do?"

For you that lands under the category of 'Duh'. "Get the fuck out of Lima. Live with us or the superstar."

"What if I can't cut it in New York?"

You look at your phone to make sure you're talking to the right person. That doesn't sound at all like Quinn. It scares you how scared she is of moving. "Am I still talking to Quinn Fabray because it sounds like I'm talk to a chicken shit." You do realize that that was a little harsh even from you. "Q? Just…give it two weeks. If you don't love it, move somewhere else, but…can you really be happy in Lima?"

She pauses and that affirms with you that you struck a nerve with her. She answers, "I'll think about it."

Which usually means that she'll wait a couple days and then tell you know. You rub the back of your neck, "Okay."

"Get some sleep," she tells you, initiating the end of the conversation.

"Okay," you put your glass in the sink and turn to your bedroom where you can see Brittany moving around to get comfortable, "You too."

"Goodnight."

You hang up and crawl back into bed. Brittany's arms find you even though she's asleep.

By some weird crazy random happenstance, you have lunch with Rachel Berry. Brittany was supposed to meet you both, but she had to stay at work. Surprise, surprise.

She's absently tapping her phone on the table, "Have you talked to Quinn since she left?"

"Yeah," you answer sipping your tea. "Neither one of us could sleep last night."

Rachel's gaze turns to you and she kindly asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just don't…sleep," you shrug, "She moved out of her house yesterday and she's staying with her sister now."

"Now if we could only get her here," Rachel sighs. You look Rachel over. She looks so much different from high school. Not in a shallow sense, but it's deeper. She's matured and you're immensely thankful for that because Brittany wants to be friends with Rachel again and you don't know if you can handle Berry's high school tirades.

"She's scared that she can't cut it," you pick up a slice of strawberry and bite down on it, "I don't get it. She's Quinn Fabray and New York is just a city. It's not like the military or law school. It's just a place to live."

"You can see though how it would be daunting if you've never lived anywhere else in your life," you're surprised at how quickly Rachel defends Quinn.

You nod. You were a little nervous moving out to Santa Barbara for the first time, but that nervousness was short lived. Really because it was replaced by a crippling depression and a self-destructive vector pointed straight down. "Yeah I guess." You sigh, "Well kidnapping is still on the table right?"

Rachel laughs and it's not as annoying as you remember it. Half an hour later, Rachel has to excuse herself to get to the theatre. You tell her to remind Quinn the next time they talk to tell her to give it two weeks. Rachel smiles at the idea and unexpectedly hugs you.

Class is a blur of notes and lecture. You find yourself zoning out, wondering what life would have been like had Brittany not let you back into her life. What would have happened if when you finally got the guts to call her and tell her that you were moving to New York and didn't have anywhere to stay, she didn't pick up? What would have happened if you didn't get accepted to Columbia? If you didn't feel that sad pull in your heart everyday that you were away getting her god-awful undergraduate degree in Santa Barbara?

Before you know it, you're the only person left in the class. Even the professor is gone. You sigh and pack up your things.

So before Brittany gets home from work, you splurge a little on some of Brittany's favorite food to cook for her. You easily make your way around the tiny kitchen making sure that everything is just like she likes it.

It's eight before she gets home and it's okay with you because you started dinner late knowing what time she usually walks in. But she's holding flowers and they're not the just-picked-up-on-the-way-home kind. They're the went-out-of-the-way-to-get-these flowers.

She sigh and cross your arms. You know why she's bringing you those. You brought you some of those right before she told you that she wouldn't be coming home at five o'clock anymore. You drop the spoon you're holding into the sink and start to walk toward the bedroom. How can she work anymore than she already does? She might as well sleep at the fucking theatre.

She catches your arm and her eyes lock onto you. She's silently pleading with you not to be mad. You close your eyes and push your anger down. You let out a heavy sigh and nod, "Whatever. I made you dinner."

She pulls you into your arms, "I'm sorry. The other choreographer quit and I-"

You cut her off. The reason doesn't matter to you, "I understand." That's a lie. You don't understand. Not at all, but you don't want to spend the few moments that you have with her arguing.

"San," she sighs and pulls away. She knows you're holding back.

"It's fine."

"You're not acting like it," she pulls her hands off of you and plants her feet.

You shake your head, the anger starting to boil up again. "I said it's fine so it's fine."

"Santana," she states with her hands on her hips.

You don't like the way she's standing. It's combative. You just shake your head, "I don't wanna fight with you."

"Robot!" her voice elevating slightly puts you on edge.

"No Britt, no robot," you yell throwing your arms up in the air, "It doesn't fucking matter how I feel right now." You don't even give her a chance to reply before walking straight to the guest room and slamming the door behind you.


	5. Chapter 5

You wake up to your phone beeping next to you. You feel hungover. You know it's from crying last night. You studied and cried (mostly cried) until you fell asleep in the guest room. You push your hair out of your face as you sit up and pick up your phone. You have fifteen texts from Brittany and two from the guy that sits next to you in your first class of the day which a quick glance at the time tells you that you're missing.

You go through Brittany's texts one by one and slowly feel the tears build in your eyes again. She tries to explain why she has to work late and that it's important for her career. She doesn't understand why you're so mad at her. She threatens a few times to come home from rehearsal if you don't text her back. (If only) She tells you more than once that she loves you.

You trudge into the kitchen not bothering to wipe the tears from your face. You see that the kitchen is cleaned, but Brittany left her keys on the counter. You guess you can't really blame her. You check the washing machine and find that her dance clothes didn't get washed. You know she has other dance clothes, but she likes to wear that sweatshirt because when she's not dancing she gets cold in the theatre. You turn on the washing machine and walk away from it.

A fresh wave of tears washes over you before you hear a knock on the front door. You sigh and hope that Brittany didn't actually come home from rehearsal. Well you really hope that she did, but you're still angry with her.

You finally yank open the door, "Go away Bri-" But it's not Brittany. Quinn is standing there, looking stunned at your outburst. You don't think you've ever been so happy to see someone that isn't Brittany in your life.

You don't know what happens, but after a few minutes you realize that she's holding you, slowly rubbing your back in small circles. "What's wrong?"

You pull back and compose yourself. You pull her inside and seat yourself on the couch, ignoring her question, "What are you doing here?" You force a fairly convincing smile. That is if you weren't just crying a few second ago.

"I'm moving here," she says, still looking worried, "What happened with you and Britt?"

You completely ignore the question and steer the conversation away from you, "You're moving here like New York or into this apartment?"

She puts her hand on your arm and answers with a smile you know she's trying to suppress, "New York. What I brought with me is already at Rachel's apartment."

You give her a real smile back, "Two weeks?"

She nods, "Two weeks."

You can't express how happy you are that Quinn will be here. At least for two weeks. "Awesome. I'm glad you're here." There that didn't sound as desperate as you feel. Now you just need to get Quinn to stay forever. You glance at the clock on the wall. "It's almost three. You need to start calling real estate firms because the sooner you have your job, the sooner you have your job, the sooner I can go back to Lima with you to get your stuff and the sooner my mom will stop asking me when I'm going to see her?" That didn't sound pathetic at all. Your mom has been hounding you about going back to Lima to visit. Plus, the sooner Quinn has a job, the sooner she lives here permanently.

You start reading a text book, purposely ignoring her until she starts making phone calls. After the first one she looks more comfortable so you send her on her way. You know that you're not going to be good company today, but you feel better and breathe a little easier knowing that she is in the same city. She's a phone call and a cab ride away. You tell her that you'll tell Brittany that she's here and she starts to ask what happened. You just shake your head, knowing that she'll back off for a while.

Once she's gone, you close your book and lay out on the couch. You pick up your phone and find another two text messages. She wants you to meet her at the theatre. That message was sent half an hour ago.

You think it over. Then you throw her dance sweatshirt in the dryer and hop in the shower. If you're going to be seen by her co-workers you have to look good. So you apply a small amount of completely essential make-up and straighten your hair before heading to your closet. Skinny jeans, black heeled boot, black v-neck long-sleeved topped off with a gray wool coat and Brittany's favorite red scarf. You look good without looking like you tried all that hard.

You grab her sweatshirt and fold it up, placing it in a reserve dance bag along with her keys. You check your phone again, not bothering to tell her that you're on your way before you take off.

When you get to the theatre, the security guard smiles at you as you walk past him. You've come (with lunch or coffee or something Brittany forgot) enough times for him to recognize you by now. You shoot him a smile back. He's a nice old guy most of the time.

You walk in the back doors of the theatre and pause in the doorway. You see Brittany on the stage watching some dancers on the stage. She's biting on her fingernails, which she almost never does. As the song winds down she nods before pulling her phone out of her pocket and checking it before putting it back with a sigh.

You're in the shadows so you know she can't see you. You know that she's checking her phone looking for a response from you. You haven't communicated with her in almost twenty-four hours. You let out a sigh and your icy heart melts a little. You were going to come here, see what she wanted and then head to the med school library to check out a few books on oncology. That worried look on her face is making your want to still be mad at her slip away.

She checks her phone again before the song starts over and this time you can see her shoulder move up and down with a sigh. She turns off the music and waves the dancers away. She sits on the edge of the stage and looks down at her phone punching at the buttons.

As you finally start walking toward the stage, you feel your phone vibrate in your purse. She sets her phone down and watches her feet dangle above the ground. She looks so sad and you feel bad for making her feel that way, even though it's not completely your fault.

She hears your heels before she sees you. When she sees you a smile creeps onto her face before she squashes it. She looks nervously at you as she slides off of the stage. She meets you in the middle of the isle, halfway to the back of the theatre.

"I didn't think you would come," her eyes sweep your shoes and look up at you from behind her long lashes.

You don't really know how to answer that so you don't. You just offer her the bag and cross your arms, keeping yourself closed off to the millions of charms and pouts she has at her disposal.

"Thanks," she says quietly. She unzips it and smiles when she finds her sweatshirt and keys. Then she sets it down on the isle and takes your hand, pulling you into the row of seats next to you. She sits down and you sit with a seat between you.

She looks from you to her knees and back before pushing up all the armrests between you, pushing the empty seat down and placing one hand on each of your ankles, bringing your legs across her lap. She folds her hands on top of your shins and bites her lip thoughtfully. You lean to your left onto the back of your chair and rest your elbow on the back of it.

You can't make her suffer anymore. Her far off gaze and nervous nail biting are enough. "Look, I understand that you have to work a lot. I knew that when we got together. It just sucks that I never get to see you." She looks hesitantly up at you and you feel like you'd do anything to see her smile so you add, "Because you're fucking hot and it's fun to look at you."

She smiles at that and the clench of your heart lessens. She rubs your shin through your jeans and takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry. I really am. I just don't know to do."

You feel bad. You don't really think there is an alternative. She could quit her job, but this is her dream and you'd both end up resenting you if you made her quit. You rest your head in your head that's propped up on the back of the seat you're in, "Just promise me that it'll get better."

She nods eagerly, "Definitely. I mean after this I'll start signing on as head choreographer and I'll have assistants."

"And when this show opens you'll jump right into the next one?" you wonder why you've never had this discussion before. You don't really have any idea how a choreographer finds other jobs or if they bounce from one show to another. You know that she has a manager, but you've never met him or her.

She shrugs, "Probably not. Maybe a few small shows until next season."

"So we can use my parents' lake house in Pennsylvania?" you ask with a small smile.

She nods, "Definitely." After a beat she looks up at you and asks, "So we're okay?"

You nod again, "I just miss you babe."

"I miss you too," she moves to the seat next to you and wraps her arms around your waist, "I miss you a lot." She rests her head on your shoulder and you can feel her fidget with your scarf.

"I know," you kiss the side of her head. "Someday I'll be out of school and you'll be choreographing Cher's Comeback Farewell Comeback Comeback Tour," you pause for her to giggle. "And we'll have all the time in the world to be together."

She tilts her head back and kisses your cheek, "You're the best San."

"Not even close," you gently squeeze her, "But I'm glad you settled for me."

She shakes her head against you but offers no further rebuttal. Instead she sits up and looks at you. "Can I take you out tomorrow night? We'll go to dinner and you can wear that black dress you bought, but haven't worn yet."

"Are you sure?" you ask. You really don't want to be disappointed again.

"Totally," she says, kissing you softly, "I'll call rehearsal early and I'll get dressed here and pick you up."

"Promise?" you ask. You always have some doubt in the back of your mind. You don't remember the last actual date you two went out on.

She nods, suddenly not looking so sure.

You let out a sigh because you know she's not sure now. Your arms drop from around her. It hurts you and you roll your eyes because you feel a prickle on the back of them, telling you that your emotions are getting the better of you.

You see people start to walk back out onto the stage so you stand, "You gotta go." That sounded bitter, even to you.

"San," she pleads and you stop your hasty escape. You turn around and look at her. She places her hands on your hips and pulls you to her, your bodies presses together. She kisses you. It's short and extremely sweet. You intertwine your arms behind her neck because her kisses can make you forget your own name, much less that you're upset with her.

When she pulls away she rests her forehead against yours and closes her eyes, "I love you."

"I love you too," you breathe. You're swept up in all your love for her and for the moment you don't care that she's not playing fair. You look into her sad, apologetic eyes and give in, "Any requests for dinner?"

"I'll bring dinner home," she offers you another tentative smile, "Are you going home after this?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to hit up the library and get my study on."

"You're going to be a kick ass surgeon," she grins, pride spreading all over her face.

You smile back and kiss her, "I'll see you later."

"Bye," she kisses you one last time before picking up her bag and heading back to the stage. You linger in the doorway long enough to watch her put her sweatshirt on before you leave.

At eight o'clock, your stomach starts grumbling. You turn off the TV and glance at the clock with a heavy sigh. You suppose it's time to break out the cereal.

You're in the kitchen dumping cereal into a bowl when the front door opens. Brittany waltzes in with a huge smile on her face and dinner in her hand. Before you can react, she pins you against the counter in a deep, hungry kiss. She trails a few kisses down your neck before pulling back with a grin, "Sorry it took so long. I got your favor Thai and stopped to get some wine." She presents you with a paper bag containing three white boxes and a bottle of Riesling.

Instead of taking the dinner and wine from her full hands, you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her in for another kiss.

You eat dinner on the couch, chatting like nothing negative happened. Then you forgo the books for the night and let her pull you into the bedroom where she focuses all of her attention on you, leaving no part of your body untouched or unkissed.

You thoroughly exhaust each other and snuggle into each other. She kisses you gently, her naked body tangled into yours. "I'm sorry Santana. I love you so much. I don't want you to leave me again."

Those pesky tears brim your eyes. "Brittany, I love you and I'll never leave you again. I promise. Not matter what."

So the next day you're sitting in class thinking about this date with smile on your face. You haven't been out with Brittany in forever and you're really looking forward to it.

Of course the feeling is short lived because as you're checking your phone, walking to your last class of the day, you see the two words that you've been seeing and hearing way too much from Brittany. You don't even have to read the rest of the text because you know the content from the first two words: I'm sorry.

She tells you that she's so, so sorry, but she has a work thing tonight. She'll take you out tomorrow night. She didn't know about it until a few minutes ago and she apologizes again. You turn off your phone and trudge up to your seat.

You should have known not to get your hopes up. You should have known that she was going to cancel. If she were anyone else you would have dumped her sweet ass on the curb a long time ago, but she's Brittany. She's your Brittany and she gets infinite chances because when she screws up she feels horrible about it. She tries to make it up to you and she tries to make it better. You know there are some things that she can't help, but you also know that she can stop making you promises. She can just surprise you when she decides she has the time to take you out.

You drop by a bar on the way home and get three scotches down. You pull out your phone and power it up again, ready to send an angry text to your girlfriend. However you fumble with the keys so much it's all a jumbled mess.

You finally settle on going home and wallowing until Brittany gets home. Then you plan to pick another fight. And sleep in the guest room. Probably…you're not sure. You just want to lay down.

You pass out on the couch a few seconds after you get home and you wake up to Brittany closing the front door. You peek over the back of the couch and see her spot you. You roll over on the couch and curl into the cushions. You're being childish and you know it, but you don't care. You're hurt and you're mad so you're going to act out.

Brittany silently walks over and sits on the coffee table. You can smell coffee and you roll onto your back to look at her. She's holding a cup from your favorite coffee shop. She offers it to you without a word.

You eye it for a moment before taking it and sitting up. You wrap both of your hands around it, crossing your legs. You don't say anything. You just wait for her to speak.

"I want to be something," she says quietly.

You furrow your eyebrows and finally meet her eyes. She's biting her bottom lip. "What do you mean?"

"I mean this is my chance to be something," she looks at the ground with her head bowed, "I can't dance forever. You'll be a doctor and what will I be?"

You roll your eyes at how easily your anger melts away. You understand what she's saying. That's how you feel right now. She's a Broadway choreographer and you're a med student who's income is exactly zero dollars. You feel like you're mooching off of her…well you are mooching off of her. She's paying for everything with the exception of the occasional donation from your parents.

You lick your lips and take a sip of the coffee. After a minute you ask, "What do you want to be?"

Her response is almost so soft that you don't hear it. But when you register the words, tears jump to your eyes, "I want you to be proud of me."

"Brittany Susan Pierce," you say sternly, "Look at me."

Her head shoots up and her watery eyes meet your own. She looks unsure of your harsh tone. Maybe a little frightened.

"I've never not been proud of you and you know that," you tilt your head to the side.

"I just-" she sighs, "I don't want to just…do nothing. I can't dance forever and I can choreograph a little longer than that, but-"

"Britt," you pause once you know she's not going to keep talking, "Based on the shape you're in now, which by the by is incredible, and your mom's aging, you'll be able to choreograph long after I retire."

"But what if something happens and I break something or tear something," she asks with a desperate look in her eyes.

"Then you'll sing or you'll draw," you set your coffee down and pull her into your lap, "Britt, you're so talented, but dance isn't the only way. I know you love it, but it's not all you have. "

She pouts for a minute before leaning back into you, "I'm scared though."

"I know," you rest your chin on her should, "You know how I know?" She looks at you questioningly. You take a deep breath, "Because you're this…awesome, choreography rising star and I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing-" She's quick to interrupt you.

You interrupt her interruption, "I don't make any money. No one knows who I am. I spend most of my day sitting on this couch reading. In a few weeks I will have a permanent ass print in the cushions. Sometimes when you're off at award shows or industry parties or whatever…I get jealous. You're fucking amazing Britt. I'm just a student with nothing to my name, but some shoes and a shit-ton of books."

"But you're in med school," she emphasizes.

"So what? It doesn't mean shit until I graduate, complete an internship, pass a ridiculous multi-part test and finish my residency," you shrug, "You're living your dream now and sometimes…" you've never told her what you're about to and you're not sure how she's going to take it, "Sometimes I feel left behind."

Her eyes search for face for a moment before she hugs you to her body, "I'm sorry San. I didn't know." She locks her arms around your neck and squeezes, pressing your bodies hard together.

"It's okay…just…" you pause and wrap your arms around her waist, "Don't promise to take me out anymore. If you're going to, surprise me."

She nods against you and sniffles. "Okay." Her voice is shaking and you pull back to look at her. Before you can ask anything she says, "I really am sorry. I wanted to take you out tonight so bad."

"It's fine," you wipe away the few tears that trickle down her cheeks, "What was it?"

She sets her head on your shoulder and sighs, "It was a party at Quinn and Rachel's, my boss was there and his bosses were there and there were producers and directors and promoters."

"Wow," you quirk an eyebrow, wondering where the hell your invite was. You wouldn't have gone because you dislike Broadway industry parties, but it would have been nice to have been given the option. "Did you have fun?"

She kisses your neck chastely before answering, "Not really. I just laid in Quinn's room with her and we talked and watched TV."

"What'd you talk about?"

"Us. Like how I'm scared of not being anything and how I'm not my work, but I feel like it sometimes," she sighs, "She made me think about why I need to go to all this stuff. I'm sorry Santana. I really am. You're way more important than all this stuff."

"I understand," you say and for the first time you feel like you really do, "Let's go to bed okay?"


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning you wake up and make Brittany breakfast. She's surprised by all the effort you put into it and thanks you by joining you in a shower, reminding you that she knows your body better than you do.

You say something stupid of course while trying to make up with her. She looks upset, but like she's trying to hide it. You don't want her to hide it because you know it'll fester and before you know it, she'll be full on angry with you. But you clamp your mouth shut and watch her tensely go through the rest of her morning routine.

When she leaves to work, she seems reluctant to go, kissing you a few more times before finally taking off. You don't rush off to class like you usually do as the professor has already declared that he didn't want to teach that day and in med school 'doesn't want to teach' usually translates to 'not showing up'. You have no idea how professors get away with it, but it seems like a great job. Show up when you feel like, be supreme dictator of grades and get paid in the process. So you put on your scrubs for your afternoon pathology class. Not only are they required attire, they're extremely comfortable. It's like looking smart while wearing pajamas.

You pick up and leave class after the professor hasn't shown up for ten minutes. As you walk back into your apartment, Quinn calls. She invites you to lunch at her apartment, which you immediately accept without trying to sound too desperate to be around people you know for a short while.

When the correct time rolls around, you lug your backpack up the stairwell of Quinn and Rachel's apartment building and arrive at their door, the same time a muscular guy who is holding a bottle of wine. He opens the door for you with a smile and you step in, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Are you playing pretend today?" Quinn asks you as you step into the kitchen. She's got a content smile on her face so you know she's messing with you.

You roll your eyes playfully, "No. My pathology class is taking a field trip this afternoon and this is required attire."

You sit down on an out-of-the-way part of the kitchen counter and drink from your water bottle for a while, watching Quinn and the guy whose name you've learned is Jake cook. Apparently he's some kind of personal assistant or something. Finally, you pull out one of your books and start practicing your suture technique in the air. As a promising young surgeon and a person with an insane need to be better than other people, you need to practice things that most other students aren't even thinking about yet.

You mumble, "Master of cadavers," with an arrogant smirk on your face. However Quinn asks you to please not speak of medicine, especially cadavers, before, during or after meals.

You shoot her a glare at her and she offers you part of a carrot as a peace offering. You take it and chomp off the end, "Thanks for talking to Britt last night. I didn't know she felt like that."

"No problem," she offers a weak smile.

"Brittany belongs to you?" Jake looks over his shoulder at you, "I mean like-she's with you?"

You size him up and look him over. If he has a little crush on Brittany you're going to stomp it out fast, "Yeah."

"I met her last night," he smiles and turns back to the stove, "She's really nice."

"Uh, thanks?" you look to Quinn silently asking 'what the hell?'. She just shrugs. You look back at him as he chops up something. You narrow your eyes trying to see through him and maybe find his intentions. After you realize that you're not a superhero with intention seeking abilities, you turn back to Quinn.

You lower your voice so that pretty boy can't hear and get any bright ideas, "Of course I made the mistake of telling her that as soon as I get out of med school that she doesn't actually have to do anything."

"Oh San," Quinn sighs, "You should know better."

"I know, I know," you huff, "I'm an idiot."

She pushes some of her hair out of her eyes and shakes her head, "You're not stupid. You're just still…you."

"What does that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes. You're not really irritated with Quinn. You're irritated with yourself for even speaking the words to Brittany that upset her.

"You still talk before you think," she hands you another slice of carrot.

"Whatever," you look down at the book in your lap and pretend to read a little before asking Quinn, "How'd the interviews go?"

"They went well. Most of them said they'd let me know by Wednesday," she grins proudly, "Coach Sylvester would have been proud."

"Are you kidding?" you chuckle, "She's hella proud of you anyway. Brittany's sister says that she's still talking about the Unholy Trinity."

"We're legends," she laughs.

After you get absorbed in your book, Quinn walks to the other side of the kitchen to talk about whatever he's making. You watch them interact over the edge of your book. They're just friends. You can read that much. Quinn isn't indicating anything that she likes him more than that and Jake seems more into whatever he's making than Quinn.

Now she's going to get job offers then you need to get her dating and she'll stay here forever. Not that you really need her here all that much it's just that…you do. You're tired of being lonely.

"Honey I'm home!" That must be Rachel. You don't know anyone else in the entire world that can project that loudly.

She walks in with a guy who introduces himself as David. You assume that he's Rachel's boyfriend. He notices your book and ask you about school. You shrug and give him the short of it. School's hard. The professors are arrogant assholes. Exams are ridiculous.

Luckily now that Rachel's here, you get to eat. You were worried that you'd have to skip out on the food to get to class on time.

Lunch is nice, but Quinn doesn't like Rachel's boyfriend. She keeps glaring at him like her look alone could make him explode. And who knows? Since it's Quinn her look alone might actually be able to make him explode. It would be an interesting story to tell your pathology class if you manages it.

Something about him screams closet gay to you, but you're not going to say anything. As soon as everyone is done eating you tell everyone you have to run to get to class. It's not entirely true. You are going to class, but you have a pit stop to make.

You sit in the middle of the theatre until Brittany sees you. It doesn't take long. She hops off of the stage and prances over to you. She sits in your lap and hugs your neck, "What are you doing here?"

You hold up a paper bag containing her favorite sandwich from her favorite deli. You're rewarded with a deep, languid kiss. You don't mind that some of the dancers are looking. In fact you're hoping that all straight/bisexual men and gay/bisexual woman are looking. You may fight occasionally, but Brittany's yours and you'd fight like hell if someone ever tried to take her.

It's a nice reprieve. But it only lasts a few hours. You stayed at the library late to get some studying in and she came home early to surprise you by taking you out. She's pissed because you're not home and you're pissed because she's pissed. You know that you're both just immensely disappointed, but you've both had your fill of disappointment so you move on to anger.

You do manage to cool down on the way home, realizing that you shouldn't have been angry and she's probably not actually angry either. However that theory is disproven when she doesn't even say hi to you as you sit down on the opposite end of the couch from her.

You decide to wait her out. She's not really doing anything, just sitting there. So you figure that she'll say something eventually. You pull out a book and start reading.

Of course it's fruitless. She's keep softly sighing. You're sure she's not even realizing that she's doing it. You can't concentrate long enough to figure out what exactly you're trying to look out. After a moment, you look over at her and remember a way to kill two birds with one stone.

"Baby girl," you look over at her. You need her to say something... Anything. You need her to talk to you, "I need help."

She leans over on the couch and rests her chin on your shoulder. It reassures you a tad that she's still willing to touch you. You let her read for a moment before she stands up. She peels of her shirt and stands in front of you without a stitch of material on her body above her hips. She turns around and you sit up referencing your book and your girlfriend's back. Your fingers trace the lean muscles as you mumble Latin names to yourself. You want to pat yourself on the back for being able to stay focused enough to actually find what you're looking for.

When you're done you close the book and kiss the small of her back, "Your body is amazing babe. Absolutely flawless."

She glances behind her before plopping down in your lap. "I'm sorry about earlier." she takes a deep breath.

You put your arms around her and close your eyes. You let your fingers stroke her skin, "I'm sorry too."

"I love you San," she says quietly, "I didn't mean to get mad. I just…I miss you a lot. I really, really wanted to take you out. I still want to take you out." You hear her voice tremble as she speaks.

You nod and kiss her shoulder, "I know. I'm sorry too. I miss you too. You know it's scary for me because you don't need me anymore. You have a whole other life that has absolutely nothing to do with me." You hope she uses her Brittany-sense and picks up on what you mean.

"I do need you. But I don't need you to take care of me. I need you in a different way. I need you to be with me and love me and stuff." she turns her head and kisses the underside of your jaw. "You're my Santy Pants."

"I promise I'll be with you and love you and stuff forever. Even if you remember all of my embarrassing nicknames I had when we were little."

"Good," she smiles. After a quick kiss, she adds, "What was it?"

"Thoracolumbar fascia."

"Awesome."

Now you're back to the fact that she's naked from the waist up. You kiss her again, this time pulling her onto your lap. As soon as she's straddling you, your hands rest on her hips. You feel her fingertips run up the sides of your neck before cupping your jaw. She deepens the kiss, rolling her hips into you.

There's always been something electrifying about her kisses. When she turns it on, she can touch you and you'll fall apart. You'll do anything she wants you to. It used to get you into a lot of trouble. Sometimes it still does.

She moans into your mouth as your tongues dives into her mouth. There's not a part of her that doesn't taste magnificent. You break away from her mouth and kiss down her jaw to her neck. It's obvious where you're going with this and Brittany threads her fingers through your hair, helping you along.

You break away from her and smile at her groan of frustration. "Let's go to bed babe."

She shakes her head and dives into another kiss. "I want you now," she growls and practically rips off your shirt. It's so hot when she gets like this and you get so wet.

"Alright," you smile as she kisses you harder and guides you down onto your back. So much for studying.

You wake up sore. Half from what you did with Brittany last night and half from sleeping on the couch with her. She's already up and dressed, making coffee. You decide that clothes can wait. You walk up behind her as she pours herself some coffee and wrap your arms around her waist. You kiss and nip at her neck and can feel her lean back into you.

Your hands slide down a little and one of them sneaks under the hem of her shorts. She moans, but breathes out, "San, it's almost nine."

That killed the mood. Your eyes bug out and you run to the bedroom to get dressed. You're going to be late to class. Brittany's waiting by the door with your bag and a travel mug of coffee in her hand with a huge grin on her face.

"I love you," she says with a playful smile.

You pause long enough to kiss her because who are you kidding? When do you not want to kiss her? When she runs her tongue along your bottom lip and caresses the back of your head, you set your coffee down on the kitchen counter and drop your bag. Your arms slide around her waist and you find yourself pushing her against the refrigerator. Magnets fall but neither one of you notice. She wraps her arms around your neck as you lift her leg and push your left hand down the front of her shorts. This time you don't hesitate.

Her head falls back and hits the refrigerator. Her deep pants slide across your cheek and down your neck. It doesn't take very long for you to feel her clenching around your fingers. You know she's close, you just need her to fall.

You capture her mouth with yours, forcefully kissing her. Her head hits the back of the refrigerator again, but she doesn't complain. Her tongue battles with your for a moment only to give up completely when she comes.

She arches into you and moans your name. "Oh god Santana." There's never a more beautiful sight than the one in front of you right now. Her head falls onto your shoulder and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath.

You kiss her cheek and then her neck, as you extract your hand from her shorts. "I hate to fuck and run, but…"

She nods against your shoulder and gradually lets go of your neck. You kiss her sweetly, hopefully conveying all the love that you feel for her. You don't think it's actually possible to do that, but you try.

She smiles at you when you pull away. "I wish you had more time. I'd totally return the favor."

You chuckle at that. You're sure she would and you really want her to, but you have got to get to class, even though now you will definitely be late. You'll have to settle being sexually frustrated for the rest of the day. It won't be easy, but you plan on making her pay up the next time you see her.

She picks up your bag and coffee again, handing it to you. You kiss her cheek this time. You're afraid she's going to use one of her mind-erasing kisses and get you to stay.

As you're walking out of your building and onto the sidewalk you get a text. It's from Brittany. _I can't wait until you get home. It's your turn._

You smile at that. It's going to be worth being frustrated all day when you get home after class.

Of course Brittany doesn't let you forget exactly how frustrated you are. It seems that every time she has a break, she sends you a sext. You keep your phone on silent in your bag so that you don't check them when you're in class. Finally, you're in Immunology and you're about to explode. You clench your fist and a barely make it through class.

When you leave, you find three new texts, all explaining in graphic detail what Brittany plans to do to you when she gets home from work. You don't think that you can last that long. You try really hard to think about something else. Oncology. Immunology. Diagnostics. Orthopedics. Anatomy. Okay, so anatomy not only didn't help, it sort of made it worse because when you're stuck whose body do you use to study? Brittany's. And she's usually naked. On the bed with her legs…. Oh crap…

Your eyes shoot to the clock on your phone. Brittany's not going to be home for another two or three hours. You groan. You really don't want to take care of yourself. It's never as good.

You finally decide on a plan of action. You send Brittany a text and grab your purse. She texts you back almost immediately. You read her response and shudder in anticipation. _Perfect. Meet me in my dressing room._


	7. Chapter 7

It's days like this you wonder why you decided to go through the hell that is med school. You have tests upon tests and labs and texts from other frantic students begging and bargaining for you notes. You also have a girlfriend you haven't seen outside of your bedroom in almost a week. You have got to get away from med students and anything medicine related.

So you sent a quick text to Quinn, _Please save me from myself Q. I'm about to cut my median cubital. _Yes, quite possibly the nerdiest text you've ever sent. There's just so much information in your head that it's starting to pour out all over the place.

You drum your pencil on an open book to the tune of the latest pop piece of crap to get stuck in your head before your phone buzzes. Quinn invites you to lunch with her and Rachel. She tells you where they're going and tells you not to take a cap just in case... whatever that means. You are more than happy to meet them for lunch. You don't actually remember eating solid food in the past twenty-four hours.

You arrive before they do. You were sure that that would happen. It doesn't matter and no matter how much you want to - no matter how much your hand is itching to - you're not going to take your textbook out of your bag. You're going to sit there and stare at the wall.

Of course on the wall you can see three places that resemble some blood vessel clusters that you carefully dissect in your mind to get to the imaginary organs underneath.

"God San, do you ever sleep?" interrupts your mental surgery on the wall. You blink to focus your eyes on her as she rubs your shoulder. She must be really worried if she's rubbing your shoulder. That's almost the end of her public physical affection rope.

You shake your head. You don't really get much sleep anymore. "No, never. I'm not sacrificing my Brittany time for sleep. Or my study time." You shrug carelessly, "Sleep is completely overrated anyway."

Ever the hyperbolarian, Quinn adds, "You're going to die." She glances at Rachel, but her eyes settle back onto you.

You, yet again, find a way to slip some studying in by treating Quinn's mis-prognisis as a study question. "No," you flip through a diagnostic manual in your head, "I'll just start hallucinating and lose all essential motor skills. No biggie." You pick up your drink and take a sip. Yeah, you're going to murder this test.

Quinn picks up her napkin and nervously tugs at the corners. You wonder why she's nervous, but figure it out when she asks, "So I'm going to Lima at the end for the week, wanna come?"

You can't let her go alone and your test will be over. You really don't have a choice. You're sure she wouldn't ask if Rachel was going. "Want to? No. "Have to? Definitely." You yawn and ask if you can leave after your last class of the week.

She agrees. "I have to drive back though."

That could be advantageous in dealing with your mom. "That's fine. It'll give us an excuse to leave early. I love my mom, but I can only take so much of 'Oh mija you look so pretty in white' or 'Brittany has amazing genes'." Like you need one more person adding one more list of the things you need to stress about. "And telling her that marriage and children are not on the table right now, does not actually work. It's like she only hears what she wants."

"Parents do that," Rachel agrees, "My dads have been hinting that both of those thing."

You notice Quinn quickly look down at the table, her standard uncomfortable position. You don't know why she's doing that so you go ahead and ask, "Why not? I mean your man candy seems like a good guy." He also seems like just that - man candy. Once you get past all the pretty all you have is empty calories and air.

Rachel is quick to shrug and dismiss the idea, "We've only been dating for six months. We're both very career driven so if we find that we are compatible in…that way, it's going to take something huge in one or both of our careers to take any kind of huge step like that." She lets out a small sigh and looks out the window.

"So Santana, exactly why haven't you asked Brittany to marry you yet?" Damn Quinn. You should have known she was going to bring that up.

"Because," you lean back in your chair and cross your arms, "Marriage is…scary. And we're kind of just…getting used to being together again." It makes you sad to think about how much time you've lost not being together. Maybe if you'd stayed together...

"It's been a year," she says gently, like she's trying to ease you into the idea.

You really, really, really don't need this right now. You need to blame it on whatever she things is holding you back and get to her to let it go. "It's just…scary as shit okay? She's pissed at me half the time. What happens when she gets trapped in that? What if I make her miserable?" And just as you were planning to lie, out comes truth. You slump down in your chair and let your head drop onto the table. Now you're going to be thinking about Brittany, wondering if you make her miserable, while you're supposed to be studying.

Quinn's voice is soft and soothing when she adds. "San." You look up at her, waiting for her to finish. "You don't make her miserable. Sometimes you irritate her and sometimes she irritates you." Quinn smiles hopefully at you. "But she loves you. She always has and I was there when you met Brittany. You can't tell me that you didn't love her the second you saw her for the first time.

How can Quinn know if any of that's true, if you don't know if any of that is true? You scratch your scalp and sigh. "Just drop it okay?" You go to pick up your fork and spot Rachel. You keep forgetting she's there. So you include her, "Control your roommate okay?"

Both of them laugh and you've effectively move the conversation away from yourself. You hear Rachel tell Quinn to behave and Quinn swear to follow orders.

After a small lunch, you tell them that you have to study. Quinn insists on paying and tells you to call her and give her a time to leave on Friday.

So when Friday rolls around you wake up in a cold sweat because you completely forgot to book your plane ticket. You slip out of bed to call Quinn and tell her, only to have Brittany get out of bed with you and present you with an airline ticket that's been sitting on the counter for days that you somehow completely didn't notice.

You give her a tired hug and thank her. You can't believer you forgot something so important. And now you're awake at five thirty in the morning with no hope of going back to sleep. You decide to make breakfast for Brittany since your hasty move to the kitchen woke her up at this ungodly hour.

"I'm gonna miss you," Brittany says.

You turn around from the French toast and see her sitting on the counter behind you. You walk over to her and lean forward, between her legs. "It'll only be for the weekend. Quinn and I are driving back early Sunday because she has to go to work."

"I'm still gonna miss you," Brittany takes your hands that are resting on her knees and pulls them so that they're behind her and you're holding her. She puts her arms around your neck and kisses you. "Call me when you get there?"

You nod. "Of course."

"And call me before you go to sleep."

"Mhmm." She kisses you after you answer.

"And when you wake up," she smiles her perfect smile at you and kisses you again.

"I'll call you when I wake up," you smile back. You kiss her and break away to turn the toast before it burns. After a few seconds you pick up the pan and dump the toast on a plate.

When you bring it to Brittany, she pulls you back into your previous position, holding her around the waist. "You're just going to visit your family?"

"Maybe yours too," you shrug. "My mom said something about going out to dinner with everyone. I never know who she's talking about when she says everyone." Sometimes she means the Pierce family. Sometimes she means cousins you haven't seen for years. Sometimes she just means her and your dad.

Brittany pouts a little. She wants to come and you resist inviting her because you know it'll spark some kind of disagreement. You just want to spend your next few hours with Brittany, holding her and kissing her.

She has to leave before you do and you won't get to see her again until Sunday so you make your last kiss count. "I love you," she says to you in her dance clothes with her bag over her shoulder.

"I love you too," you kiss her again even then one more time will never be enough.

When she does finally leave, you pack your bag for the weekend. Nothing fancy, just some casual clothes. You don't plan on going out anywhere fancy. Of course there's not really anywhere super fancy in Lima.

You place your laptop on top of your clothes in your bag because you have to take your bag to class. You're leaving right after class, maybe even a little before your last class ends. It depends on how boring your professor decides to be.

As predicted, your professor seems to be trying to put everyone to sleep and has succeeded on a group of four in the back row. So half an hour before your class ends, you take a cab to the airport and see Rachel and Quinn outside the doors as you get out.

"Uh, there's extra pasta in the cabinet and I made some pesto for you. It's in the refrigerator," Quinn tells Rachel as they stand in front of the entrance.

You roll your eyes as you walk up to them.

"I can take care of myself Quinn," Rachel laughs. Rachel turns to you. "Can you believe her?"

"Not really, no," you shake your head.

The blonde sighs, "Fine." She shoulders her bag and looks at Rachel. "I'll um see you Sunday."

Rachel hugs Quinn, who looks surprised by it and barely gets a chance to pat Rachel's arm before the short girl pulls away. Rachel turns to you with a smile. "May I?"

You shrug. Why not?

Rachel hugs you gently and briefly. You sorta hug her back. "Alright," Rachel glances behind her as the security guard who is walking toward you. No doubt to tell Rachel to move her car. "I gotta go. Have fun!" She moves her sunglasses down over her eyes and jumps into her car before the guard can get to her.

You chuckle under your breath and turn to Quinn. She's watching Rachel's car drive away. There's something weird going on with her that you can't quite put your finger on.

"Well," you interrupt Quinn's leering, "Shall we?"

She nods and looks at you. "Yeah." She frowns, "Are you okay? You look tired."

"You sure know how to charm a girl," you quirk an eyebrow at her.

She smiles as you both start to walk inside the airport. "You know what I meant. Late night?"

"Early morning," you look around the airport. Quinn leads you to the check in desk. There's only one family in front of you, which is nice. There's usually a line halfway across town to check in. "I woke up at five because I remembered that I didn't book my ticket."

"Brittany told me she was going to do that," Quinn watches a little boy pick up an action figure he dropped and run after his parents who are making their way toward the gate.

"She did," you say, placing your ticket up on the counter along with your driver's license. "She may have told me. I don't know. Shit just falls out of my brain."

Quinn chuckles. "Yeah, you've been pretty zoned out this week." She does the same thing you do and after you're both checked in, you head to security.

On the plane, Quinn stares out the window and you study your notes.

Quinn's mom picks her up at the airport and you hitch a ride because you completely forgot to call your mom. The things you're forgetting are starting to get scary.

When you get to your parents' house, you thank Judy for the ride and tell Quinn to call you tomorrow so you know what time she wants to leave on Sunday. She agrees and tells you to say hi to your mom for her.

You get out of the car and look around. Your old house seems to small yet so huge at the same time. You take a deep breath and inhale the smell of Lima, which isn't so bad now that you don't live here. You run a hand through your hair and make your way up the walkway to the front door.

You always have a moment at the front door where you don't know whether to walk right in, knock and walk inside, or knock and wait for someone to open the door for you. This time, you knock on the door and open it, figuring that your dad is still at work so it'll just be your mom.

"Mom?" you call into the cavernous entryway. You close the door behind you and drop your bag by the door.

"In the living room," she calls back.

You walk more confidently into the house and see your mom standing up off of the couch. On the coffee table, her laptop is open. She smiles when she sees you and removes her glasses. "Oh it's so good to see you." She pulls you into a hug and you immediately relax.

"Hi mom," you hug her small frame that always contradicts her personality and how safe you feel with her.

She pulls away slowly and holds you by your shoulders, looking you over. "Aye, mija you look exhausted."

You nod. "I am."

She pushes your hair away from your face, "Is everything okay? Are you and Brittany okay?"

You hesitate to nod. "We are...sorta."

"Come sit down," your mom guides you to the couch and sits you down. She sits down next to you and you sorta fall into her. She wraps her arms around you and your head falls onto her shoulder. You feel like you're little again and your mom can make everything better.

"What's wrong Santana?" she asks rubbing your arm.

You sigh. "I don't know. I guess... it's just that Brittany and I never see each other. She's always at work and whenever we make plans to go out, she always has the break them. And I get that it's her job, but...sometimes...I guess I don't feel as important as her job." You sigh, "And then I say something stupid so when we are together, she's mad at me."

"You get that from your father," you mom offers and makes you smile. After you sigh softly and look at the ceiling, your mom continues. "Sometimes, it's hard mija. I understand how you feel. I've been married to Lima's best trauma surgeon for almost thirty years." She pauses, "Sometimes it was hard when he was gone for days at a time. You just have to know that someday it'll get better and remember that you love her and she loves you."

You feel tears in your eyes. You didn't realize that you were so tired and so sad. Maybe being here, you let all of your guards down. At your first sniffle, your mom squeezes you. "Oh mi amor."

You reach up and wipe the tears off of your face. "It's - I shouldn't be crying. She's just doing her job."

"It's okay for you to be sad," your mom coos. "You miss her because you love her."

You hate crying. You hate thinking about this and being sad because Brittany's doing her job. In New York, it's so much easier to study away your feelings or cover them up with anger. But here, there's nothing to distract you and your mom is so good at extracting your feelings. You know that someday it'll be better, but you don't want to wait for someday.

You push your tears back and sigh. "I'm fine." You wipe your face and sit up out of your mom's arms. "I'm fine."

"It's okay not to be fine too," your mom cups your cheek.

You shake your head. "Can we go, eat lunch or something?" You just want a distraction. You want something to help you not think about how much you miss Brittany and how, even if you were in New York, you'd still miss her like this.

Your mom nods solemnly and stands. "I'll get my purse."

At lunch, you lean on the table in the booth and sip your wine. Your mom ordered it for you and you know why. She wants to you stop being so guarded. You take another sip. "How's daddy?"

Your mom smiles, "He's great. He's going to run in the 5k benefit for the hospital. He and the other surgeons all bet on who was going to finish first."

You laugh. That sounds like your dad. Your phone interrupts your laughter. You look down and see Brittany's face on your phone. "Oh shit, I forgot to call Brittany when I landed." You don't know why you forgot. Quinn called her roommate the second she could. Your mom raises an eyebrow at you as you pick up your phone. "Hey."

"Hey," she sounds relieved. "Are you in Lima?"

"Yeah," you rest your head in your hand. "I'm sorry. I forgot. When I got to the airport I forgot that I didn't have a ride and had to hitch a ride with Judy and Quinn."

Brittany's voice is happy when she answers, "I'm glad you made it okay. I have to go. I love you Santana."

You smile at her admission and you echo it before you hear someone call her in the background and the line goes dead.

Your mom smiles at you and says, "When you hear her say that, it's worth it isn't it?"

"Yeah," you nod. You know it's worth it when she says that and when she smiles. Also when she's sleeping in the bed you share and when she's touching you. It's all worth it because she's worth it.

* * *

><p>Sorry it's been so long. I will try to keep up with this. You can sent me friendly reminders on tumblr. I'm pleasant-hell on there as well. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Your time in Lima is spent with your family and Brittany's family. Brittany's parents took you and your parents out Friday night and your parents host a cook out for most of Saturday where you're surrounded by people that love you. It was the perfect weekend to recharge. The only thing that would have made it better would be if Brittany was there.

On Sunday, Quinn comes to pick you up; her car is packed up with all the things she didn't take with her to New York the first time. Your parents hug you and give you some money to send you on your way. You thank them and wave from the passenger's seat of Quinn's car as she pulls away.

There are so many things you and Quinn could talk about on the way home, but you decide to avoid any heavy conversation. Instead you talk about Lima and music, things that don't matter. And when you get back to New York, Quinn drops you off in front of your apartment building.

You look up at the building and don't see the your apartment window lights on so you assume that you beat Brittany home. Your bag seems heavier than you know it is as you walk up the stairs onto the last landing to your apartment. You pull your keys out of your pocket and flip around the key ring for the key to the door.

Once it's unlocked and you open the door, you step inside and flip the light switch. Nothing happens. You sigh. However, you have been living here for a long time and have already experienced this kind of blackout. You know that in a few minutes, the landlady will arrive at your door, apologize and tell you that she's going to get it taken care of as quickly as possible.

So you make your way to the windows and push aside the curtains. It doesn't really help because the moon isn't out tonight, so you decide to break out the candles. You grab some candles out of the kitchen and light them with the lighter you have to use sometimes to get the stove working.

You place one of your few candles in the kitchen and take one to the living room. As you set the candle down on the coffee table, you spot Brittany on the couch. A smile graces your face because she's sound asleep. She has an open book across her chest.

The top right corner of the book is poking her in the sternum so you carefully remove it from her limp hands. As hard as you try to keep her asleep, her eyes flutter open. A shy smile takes over her face. "Hey."

"Hey. How long has the power been out?" you ask her and push her hair away from her face.

She shrugs, which you can barely see in the single candlelight. "It was like this when I got home." She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you to her. You lay down on the couch next to her. She buries her face in your neck and asks as her arms tighten around you, "How was your trip?"

"It was great," you say. It was unremarkable, but relaxing. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she echoes and kisses your cheek.

You kiss her gently on the lips. You can sense how exhausted she is. "How about you go get ready for bed and I'll answer the door when the landlady comes? Then I'll get in bed with you and you can tell me about your weekend."

"Okay," she says, but doesn't make a move to leave your arms.

You don't say anything. You just hold her in your arms until you hear the knock on the door. You slip out of Brittany's embrace and feel your way to the door. You open the door and see your kindly landlady at the door. She smiles widely at you, her graying hair starting to explain to you why people call them blue-haired ladies.

"I'm sorry about the electricity," she ruffles her old dress. "I'll try to get it back up as soon as I can. It might start getting cold so you girls let me know if you need some blankets or anything."

You smile back at her. "No problem. Do you need any help?"

"Nah, there's still a few hops in this old gal's step," she winks at you, the laugh lines on her face more pronounced.

"Thank you Mrs. Ewing," you lean on the doorframe.

"Not a problem for my best tenants," she grins.

You chuckle, "I bet you say that to all the tenants."

She lets out a hearty laugh, "Just the ones that always pay their rent on time."

You have no idea if you always pay the rent on time or not. Brittany always pays the rent. "Have a nice night."

"You girls get some sleep," she waves as she starts to walk off, "Don't worry. I'll have the electricity back on in time for you to blow dry your hair in the morning."

You close the door with a breathy laugh and make your way back to the couch. However, Brittany is gone. You figure she moved to the bed so you walk into the bedroom. You stop in the doorway because you can see Brittany. She's standing by the bed, peeling off her clothes in the candlelight.

You stay there and watch her strip down to her underwear and crawl into bed. She curls into her pillow, a soft smile on her face. She mumbles, "This isn't a free show."

You chuckle and make your way to the bed. Your clothes come off as well. She holds the blanket up so that you can slide under it and she drops her arm and the blanket around you after you've laid down. She kisses you and pulls your body against hers.

"How was your weekend?" you ask.

She sighs, "I stayed at work late on Friday and our producer took the director, writer, composer, and me out to dinner Saturday night. I wish you were there." You feel her fingers grasp at the small of your back. "It was so boring and I had to pretend it was fun because it was my boss."

"It'll be worth it though right?" you ask, kissing the curve of her shoulder.

You feel her nose graze your forehead as she answers. "I guess."

You have to hold on to the hope that it'll all be worth it. That someday you'll be able to be together without work or school or anything else getting in the way.

"I got you something," she says, drifting on the edge of sleep.

"Oh yeah?" you ask, yourself close to being lost to the euphoric sensations of your dreams.

"Mhmm," she barely gets out.

The rest of the conversation doesn't happen because one of you falls asleep first and the other is right behind.

The next few days are a blur. You have a test coming up and all you do is study. You also force yourself to stay up with Brittany when she gets home and wake up with her before work. You also study after she's asleep and you're running on less and less sleep.

On one particular morning, you're missing Brittany as you sit on the couch and read. You wish she was there on the one morning your professor cancels your first class of the day. As you're rounding third base in your study inning (that has kept your up all night), your phone rings.

It's Quinn so you answer it with something like a grunt.

She doesn't waste time on the pleasantries. "Rachel's sick and I need you to come over."

"I'm not a doctor," you throw yourself back on the couch with a huff.

It sounds like she's moving around her kitchen with the opening and closing of cabinets, "I'll tell you what to say. Just look thoughtful and regurgitate the information."

You put your arm over your eyes, "Can you not say regurgitate so early in the morning?"

You can hear her sigh, "Please S?"

You're going to go over there. You just need to know one thing, "Is there coffee?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll be over in ten." You hang up your phone and make your way to your bedroom to get dressed for the day. Well, dressed is a bit of an overstatement. You pull on some of Brittany's dance sweatpants, and a track jacket over the shirt you were already wearing. You slip on some of Brittany's high tops that are sitting by the closet door before grabbing your backpack and making your way out the door.

"Good morning," Quinn smiles at you and you immediately wonder how anyone could be so happy in the morning.

"I haven't been to bed yet," you mumble. Your head feels heavy with the lack of sleep and your brain is foggy.

She reaches forward and brushes some of your wild morning hair down, "Go tell Rachel that she just needs to stay in bed all day and she'll be fine. Then go lay down in my bed so I can make sure you at least get a couple of hours sleep."

"Yes mommy," you say, but immediately regret it. There were times a few months ago that Finn and Quinn's inability to conceive and your inappropriate mommy retorts caused her not to talk to you for days. However when she places her hand on your arm, you suppose that she's over it now.

She leads you to the bedroom where Rachel is dramatically splayed out on the bed. You motion for her to sit up which she does. You use the back of your hand to feel her forehead and then gently check her lymph nodes. They're a little swollen so you ask, "Have you had your tonsils out?"

"Hmm," you check her pulse by looking at your watch and watching the second hand tick around while counting her heartbeat. Normal. Then you look down her throat. There's some definite redness, but you can't see much without any kind of medical instrument. You decide that Quinn's right, "Just cool it today. Relax and let Q take care of you. You should be okay by this evening, but think about getting your tonsils looked at by a real doctor."

Rachel's eyes get huge. She looks to Quinn who hands her some soup and rubs her back. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

You nod, "It could just save you future sore throats if you get them out now."

"Never!" Rachel shoots you the ojo. You're a bit taken aback by her attack. Rachel sets the soup down next to her tea and launches into full on rant mode, "Julia Andrews got her throat operated on in 1997 and her singing voice just returned a few years ago! And that was after years of vocal therapy! I can't afford to lose my-"

"Rachel!" Quinn yells over the top of Rachel's high pitch railing, "You're getting yourself worked up about nothing. Santana is just suggesting a consultation. No surgical instruments will go anywhere near your throat. I promise." She seems apologetic and affectionately touches Rachel's shoulder.

You miss the way Brittany touches you like that and you drift off into your own head and miss an entire exchange between Quinn and Rachel until you hear Quinn end with, "I'm going to go put Santana to bed and then I'll come check on you in a few minutes."

Rachel flops back onto the bed and you quirk an eyebrow at Quinn. Who does she thinks she is, making you sleep? Of course, that does sound nice. Sleep.

You find yourself falling into bed without protest, which is sad because you had a great protest planned. Quinn's bed smells nice and she lays down next to you. She tells you to sleep before her arm slides around your waist. You reciprocate the gesture and close your eyes.

Maybe if you try hard enough and pretend well enough, it'll be like holding Brittany while you go to sleep.

When you wake up, you're alone. It takes a moment to realize that you're in Quinn's room. You stretch and look at the clock. It looks like you'll be missing all of your classes today. You take a deep breath and revel in the feeling of being more rested than you have been in weeks.

You slip Brittany's shoes back on and shuffle down the hallway. You hear the TV so you follow the noise. That's where you find Rachel sitting on the couch in her pajamas. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and a bowl of soup is balanced carefully on her knees as she watches Oprah interview someone you don't recognize.

"Is Quinn gone?" you ask softly.

Rachel looks up at you and nods. "Yes. She left some soup though if you'd like some."

You walk over to the couch and sit down at the opposite corner from Rachel. "No thanks." You lean back on the plush couch, which is so much more comfortable than the old couch you have. "How do you feel?"

"A lot better," Rachel nods with a smile, "Thank you for coming over so early. I'm afraid I was a bit of a drama queen."

"Well, I went to high school with you," you joke back with her, "I'm used to it."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "I wasn't that bad." After another sip of her soup, she leans her head back on the couch. "How are you, Santana? How's school? How's Brittany?"

"School is hard. Brittany is great," you lull your head over to look at her, "I'm chronically exhausted."

"It'll get better," she reaches over and pats your leg.

You don't really have a reply to that. It's basically what everyone tells you, but so hard it hasn't gotten better. You look at the tv and see a commercial come on. Your immediate thought is that the cat in the commercial looks like Lord Tubbington. He even rolls around on the floor like him. You kinda miss the large fur ball, but you can't move him with you to New York because he's really too old for that kind of transition. Plus, Brittany sister loves him too.

"Brittany needs a cat," you say out loud without really realizing it.

"She seems like an animal person," Rachel replies, taking a long sip of her soup.

You push back into the cushions and think about it. Brittany does love animals and a cat would be the only practical thing you could own in your apartment besides, like, a turtle or some fish. It would be a great surprise for her. You nod, your eyes still on the tv, "I'm gonna get Brittany a cat."

"Wonderful idea," Rachel looks at you and smiles. "Today?"

"As soon as I find the perfect cat," you meet Rachel's eyes.

She sets her bowl on the end table and leaned back on the couch. "What's a perfect cat?"

You think about it. You're not sure. "I'll know it when I see it."

You don't stay long after that. You're a little preoccupied with thinking about this cat that you're getting Brittany to stay with Rachel. She's nice now and all, and fairly quiet. It's just still kinda awkward around her without Quinn. You tell her you're going to study and tell her to thank Quinn for you.

You completely forgot that the next day was Brittany's day off until you get the email that says you need to attend a make up lab the next day for missing the one today. You're crestfallen. You wouldn't go if it wasn't worth ten percent of your grade.

"Hey, it's okay," Brittany crawls onto the bed where you're moping and wraps her arms around your waist. She rests her chin on your shoulder. "I'll hang out with Quinn for a while and then when you get home I can actually, actually, one hundred percent for sure take you out tomorrow night."

"I thought you were going to start surprising me," you turn your head to the side to look at her and she takes advantage of the closeness of your lips and kisses you.

"Surprise," she grins at her own joke. You can't help, but smile as well.

After your lab, you practically run home. Brittany is waiting for you and she may still be with Quinn, but you have so much time with her now. You sprint up the stairs and open the front door. As you walk in, you see Quinn and Brittany sitting on the couch. You don't even care that Quinn is here. You smile, "What's up?"

Brittany gets up and runs over to you. Her arm wrap across your back and her lips smash into yours in an excited kiss. Her bottom lip slides between your lips and you run your teeth over it. She lets out a tiny moan and pulls away with a huge smile and a quirked eyebrow.

You smile back and look over her shoulder at Quinn who is smiling at you. You blush slightly before Quinn answers, "Just discussing my travesty of a love life."

She stands up and you pull her into a hug. You're so happy right now. Hugs for everyone! You pull away and look at her. You're happy, but you're still you, "Your love life has been a travesty for a long time. Care to narrow it down?"

She looks at Brittany and you follow her gaze. You see Brittany's smile and know immediately that Brittany knows something you don't. Quinn mumbles something, but it's not an answer. You keep your eye on Brittany for the real answer.

Brittany is bouncing on the balls of her feet. Your eyes travel to her torso where her... Nope. No wanky thoughts right now. Focus. Brittany's face. God she's beautiful. Focus! Brittany finally asks, "Can I tell her?"

Quinn shrugs like it's no big deal.

"QuinnsinlovewithRachel," Brittany blurts out in a sentence that was just condensed into one long word. She takes a deep breath and smiles at you like she's relieved, "Yay."

"Yay-what-yay?" You turn around to look at Quinn, making sure this is for real. Quinn's face doesn't indicate some kind of joke so you have to ask, "Is this for real?"

She slowly nods.

You blink, "How long?"

Quinn sighs, "For like...ever." She leans back into the couch and you can see the vulnerability in her eyes. You know it's true and it's not a joke.

You think back to high school. All the things Quinn said, all the things she did, the only person she ever really did nice things for and then ... it clicked. It all makes sense now. How did you miss all that? "Well damn."

"Did you tell her?" Brittany asks. She steps up next to you and threads her fingers through yours.

"I'm going to tonight. She deserves to know. It'll explain all of high school. Plus, it feels wrong when she's in my bed and doesn't know how I feel." Quinn stands up and stares at the coffee table.

Hold. The. Phone. "You've slept together?"

Quinn's eyes whip to you and she has a slight smile on her face at your shock, "Yes, but actual sleep. She had some nightmares and got scared."

You roll your eyes and are about to snark off when Brittany squeezes your hand to stop you, and asks, "What do you think she's going to say?"

Quinn doesn't seem to be really worried, "I doubt she'll be mad or weird about it...but just in case she does - and I'm talking doomsday scenario here- can I live with you guys?"

"Of course," Brittany says what you were going to say before you said it. You nod in agreement. Quinn should know that she can come to you anytime.

"Thanks," she stand up, "Well I'm going to go start my 'I'm sorry I'm in love with you' dinner."

"Don't worry about it," Brittany breaks away from you to hug Quinn. "It'll be ok."

You take your turn to hug Quinn. "Yeah. Text me later and tell me how it goes."

Quinn grins. "Have fun on your date."

"Thanks," you get excited again. You're going on a date tonight and you're ecstatic.

After Quinn leaves, you hop in the shower to get ready for your date. Brittany decides to hop in with you. When you playfully ask her why she tells you that it saves time to shower together, but that has never been the case with the both of you and that is definitely not the case tonight. As soon as your back hits the cold shower wall, you know it's gonna be a long shower.

Brittany takes you out to a fun 50s themed restaurant where you share a giant milkshake, burger and fries. You love that Brittany can sense your moods and take you out accordingly. You're sure that she had an intimate, romantic place picked out along with this place.

"Anything else I can get you gals?" the waitress walks out to your booth in her 50s waitress uniform.

You look at Brittany and then down at the demolished food and almost empty milkshake then back to her. Brittany looks up at the waitress and smiles. "No I think we're ready for the check."

You quirk your head at her after she pays the check. "Our date is already over?"

Her hair ripples beautifully and she leans back against the red vinyl seat across the table from you. "Of course not."

You pick up your purse and put it over your shoulder. She does the same with hers and stands up. You wait for her to get out and she immediately takes your hand. Her fingers between yours feel great, like they belong. They always have.

You walk out of the restaurant and expect to get into a cab or go down to the subway, but Brittany's pulling you across the crosswalk. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," she grins. The sun is about to go down and the sun is falling down the horizon. It makes her skin glow. Her hair shines in the light under her braided head wrap.

"You're beautiful," you say before you realize you're speaking your thoughts.

She turns around and her lips smash into yours in the middle of the busy sidewalk. You love her so much and you love that she'll kiss you in the middle of a sidewalk.

The bright lights of Rockefeller Center meet you on the next corner. You grin as she pulls you to the line to rent skates.

Brittany is a much better ice skater than you, but you manage to keep up with her as she skates through the crowds. She's playing a game with you and you're not sure what the rules are, but you have to stop abruptly when a kid falls in front of you.

When you don't see a parent immediately, you help the little kid to his feet. He grins at you, missing a tooth and skates away. You chuckle as he almost falls four times, but keeps going.

Brittany skates up behind you and wraps her arms around you. You're lucky that you're close to the wall and grab onto it to keep you both on your skates. She giggles into your neck, "Sorry."

"It's okay," you manage to turn around. "Where did you go?"

"Well you were it so I skated away from you, but then I ran into some kids who recognized me," she shrugs like she doesn't care, but you know she does. Recognition for her work is something she's always loved, but never needed.

"So what now?" you ask. You're tired of skating. Brittany is way more athletic than you.

She puts her hands on the wall around you and pulls herself against your body. She dips her head down to whisper in your head. "I think we should go home." The tone and gradient of her voice makes your heart slam against your ribs. You know what she wants. It'll be shower time all over again. And you can't get there fast enough.


	9. Chapter 9

"Honey!" Brittany sings from the front door as she kicks it closed behind her. "I'm home!"

You hold your towel around your torso as you prance out of the bedroom and into the living room where Brittany is setting the sushi out on the coffee table. She got your favorite sushi. You can see the tropical volcano whatever rolls. They're your favorite and you can never remember the name.

"You're not wearing clothes," Brittany falls back on the couch. She grins and reaches up, her fingers wrapping around the back of your left thigh right under your ass. She easily pulls you on top of her. You fall in a way that forces you to straddle her lap. Your towel has no choice but to rise up, giving Brittany quite a show.

"Hey," you try to yank the towel down. It's futile. Besides Brittany is already running her hands up and down the outside of your thighs.

The theatre has gone dark for some reason. They're protesting something or whatever. You don't care. Brittany is home and that's what you care about.

Her thumbs start to strain wider, gliding up and down the inside of your thighs. You rest one of your hands on her shoulders while your other hand holds up your towel. Not that it's really doing all that much. The shower you just got out of seems kind of moot right now as well because you have a feeling Brittany wants to do dirty things with you.

One of her hands disappears from your thighs and wraps around the wrist of your hand that's holding up the towel. She tugs on it and you let go, letting her have her way. Then she pulls at the already loose tuck that's keeping the towel up. The towel falls around your hips and pools on the floor across her sneakers.

You look down at her and see that her eyes are unabashedly raking over your body. She's taking in every last centimeter of your skin with her eyes. It makes your heart race a bit because you know that she thinks you're the most beautiful person on the planet. She tells you often enough. Sometimes you can't believe it. You intimately know all of your flaws and sometimes you hate yourself for them. Brittany's always been the one person that can make you forget.

When her eyes meet yours, you momentarily forget everything including your own name. You put both of your hands on the sides of her neck, her fingers overlapping on the back of her neck. You bend down to guide your lips to hers.

Her hands get brave and start roaming to less and less innocent places. Somewhere in trying to lay you back down on the couch, she misses you and you end up thudding to the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she quickly falls to her knees on the floor.

You just start giggling. She smiles as well, relived that you're not hurt. You reach up and grab a fistful of her shirt, pulling her down on top of you.

You decide about a minute later that she doesn't need her shirt anymore. You strip it off of her torso, over her head, and toss it away. After that she really burrows down into you, pressing her body hard against yours. You barely remember that you wanted her bra off and unhook the back of it. She takes that off herself so that your hands are free to get started on her pants.

Her flexibility makes it easy for you to get her pants off. Her lips are moving down your neck. She grips your thighs, pulling your legs farther apart. Just as her drag back up the inside of your thighs... your phone rings.

Brittany pulls away with an amused smirk. She always thinks its funny (unless you're the one doing all the work). Your phone is ringing right next to her head on the coffee table. She looks up to see whom it is despite your best efforts to keep her on top of you.

"It's your mom," she says. She picks up your phone and places it on your stomach where the vibrating tickles. You know you have to answer because your mom will keep calling. You grab your phone and lay back on the ground. "Hey mom," you sigh as you answer.

Brittany sits up against the back of the couch, but keeps her hand on your stomach, softly stroking your skin as she opens the sushi. She easily breaks the chopsticks apart with her very dexterous free hand.

"Hey mija!" your mom jovially greets you. "How are you?"

You want to tell her that you're busy, but you can't. You know that your mom restrains herself from calling you as much as she can because if she had her way, you'd be on the phone with her most of the day. "I'm good. Brittany has the day off and we're just hanging out."

Brittany giggles and offers you a bite of a sushi roll. You take it and sit up next to her.

"Oh that's nice," your mom clears her throat. She seems to know what you meant by that. But of course she doesn't leave you alone even though she knows. "I just talked to your cousin Lana..." And she starts updating you on the goings on of your entire extended family. By the time she's done, she sushi is long gone and Brittany has disappears with the empty containers.

You finally feel like your mom is ready to wrap things up when Brittany returns with all the makings for ice cream sundaes. Well except for the ice cream part. She sits down next to you and shakes up the can of whipped cream. She squirts some of it into her mouth and you smile at her.

"Alright honey, I'll let you go," your mom finally says. You tell her that you love and you'll call her later. As soon as you hang up you huff dramatically and let your phone fall onto the couch behind you.

"Want some?" Brittany asks, holding up the can of whipped cream.

You nod and open your mouth so she can give you a taste. She overfills your mouth and you can feel the cold whipped cream fall onto your chest. When you see the gleam in Brittany's eyes you can't help, but feel like she planned that. Especially when you feel her tongue flicks against your right breast with the pretense of cleaning you up.

She kisses your shoulder before nipping at your ear. She picks up the chocolate syrup and uses her thumb to flip open the top. Her voice is low and scratchy in your ear, "Lay down on the table. I want dessert."

You can feel your limbs start shaking in excitement. Your heart feels like it's working ten times are hard to get blood to all the places in your body that need it. You feel out of breath. She's always been able to do this to you - shake you completely up.

You carefully get up and lay down with your back on the table. You feel exposed and vulnerable, but the way Brittany smiles, the look in her eyes, it makes you feel safe. Even if her gaze is entirely predatory.

You're jealous of her. She's always been so comfortable with sex and sexuality. She's always been at home in her body. She's always loved every part of herself. There were sometimes you had to remind her that her brain is a magickal place after someone would say something mean to her, but she always believed you. Then you learned that every part of her is magickal.

The coffee table is hard on your back and ass. It's cold too. You can feel your nipples hardening from desire and the goosebumps traveling down your body. It's not that you haven't done things like this before. You have, but only a few times. You find it much more comfortable to eat off of her. This is how you imagine cadavers feel if they woke up for an instant. Naked, open, and under examination. You clench your jaw and close your eyes.

Her lips gently rest against yours. Her hand tames what you're sure is wild, floor almost-sex hair. She's reassuring you that it'll be okay. "I love you Santana." She says the words into your mouth. They travel down your throat and jump to your heart. Your jaw unclenches. When you open your eyes, you can see her looking at your face. Upon seeing your eyes open, she smiles.

Then you see the can in her hand. She slowly draws out a trail of whipped cream in a spiral pattern until it peaks on top of the right breast. She does the same with the other. Then you feel the cold, sticky trail of chocolate syrup being poured from the valley between your breasts down between your ribs, ending in a pool in your navel. Fuck, Brittany knows what her tongue lightly flickering around in your navel does to you.

The whipped cream comes out again; her eyes meet yours between the mountains of whipped cream on your chest. She just smiles and puts the can back down. Apparently something changed her mind.

She shuffles on her knees back to your torso. You've done this before. You take a deep breath. It's pretty much too late to turn around now anyway. There's something extremely erotic about it all and you're still trembling.

Her tongue makes its first landing on the underside of your breast. You inhale sharply. She licks a trail through the whipped cream up and over your nipple. You reach down and grip the sides of the table. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's the only word running through your brain. She licks in straight broad lines across your breasts, taking her sweet time to make sure that she gets all of it off.

She kisses the top of the chocolate trail, and then her lips are on yours again. Her tongue invades your mouth, bringing with it the sweet chocolate taste. It's swirling around in your mouth, teasing you. When her mouth moves away you wish it was back.

You open your eyes and tangle your hand in the hair at the base of her ponytail. She smiles at you, kissing your sternum softly before beginning to lap up the chocolate. trail down toward your navel. Her teeth scrape against your skin and her lips drag across your stomach, departing from their objective only to return with her warm tongue pressing against your skin.

You suck in a breath when her tongue first dips into your navel. Your legs curl and you don't know what they're doing, but your heels perch on the end of the table. She takes her time, finishing eliminating the dessert from your body.

She moves so that she's knelt at the end of the table. She stands up and places a knee on the corner of the table behind your thigh, pushing her body up and toward your face. Her next kiss to your lips is deep and passionate. Both of your hands struggle against the skin of her back, trying to get her closer. Her skin is pressing against yours in all the right places. You feel so...

Knock, knock, knock.

You're pissed. Someone is knocking on the door. While you're about to have what you expected to be the most mind-blowing, nirvana-inducing sex of your life and someone is knocking on the door.

Brittany even looks disappointed this time. She'll usually giggle, but in her eyes you can see that she was really looking forward to whatever she was going to do to you.

Knock, knock, knock

"I'm killing whoever is on the other side of that door," you growl.

That illicits a giggle from her. She gets up off of you and kisses you. "I'll get it. You go grab some clothes."

You sigh and know that sexy times are over for now. You grumble all the way into the bedroom. You glance back at Brittany hoping for one more glance to stave you off and find Brittany bent over the dryer, getting one of your old shirts and some shorts out that could belong to either of you.

You duck your head when you get into your bedroom. You hear the front door open and of fucking course it's Rachel and Quinn. It was only a matter of time before they both came to you and Brittany with their relationship problems. You know that Quinn said Rachel was fine with Quinn's feelings for her, but you never really thought everything would go back to normal like Quinn thought.

You pull on some clothes and shorts just as Brittany leads them into the bedroom. You fall on the door and let out a loud, "Ugh."

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles quietly, laying down on the bed next to you. Brittany jumps up on the bed before laying down next to Quinn. You want her back. But you know it probably for the best. You'd definitely start feeling her up with or without Rachel and Quinn here.

Rachel paces at the foot of the bed before pivoting toward the three of you on the bed, "Okay, the reason I seek counsel from you three who I consider to be my dearest, closest friends." You can see Brittany playing with Quinn's hair and you wish that was you. You're so mad that they're here. Interrupting your fun times. You give Rachel a glare just to make sure she knows. Although she doesn't seem to be paying attention to you.

"I am going to break up with David. We've plateaued. And the feelings for him I have are not strong enough to continue. As you know, or as Quinn knows, I'm singing at a benefit concert Friday night for…" Rachel trails off, looking expectantly at Quinn.

Quinn finishes her sentence, "Doctors Without Borders."

"Oh yeah," she nods, "Anyway, it's like the Broadway equivalent of auditioning to sing at the Tony Awards in a few weeks. Since it is like auditioning, I need a date to the benefit. David is the perfect date to such a thing. He looks good in a tux and knows how to talk to reporters."

You see exactly where this is going so you interrupt her rant before you start to grow gray hairs, "But you want us to tell you that it's okay to take him on Friday and then dump his ass the next day."

Rachel stops her pacing and wrings her hands, her eyes bouncing between the three of you, "Is that horrible?"

"Totally," Brittany states. You expected that. Brittany has always been averse to hurting people's feelings.

You however, couldn't give a rat's ass so you shrug, "Eh." You can see Brittany gives you a look of disapproval over Quinn's head. You avert your eyes because you hate that look.

"Quinn?" Rachel asks quietly.

"You shouldn't ask me if you should break up with your boyfriend." Quinn says, trying to play it off like it's a joke. But you've been where she is. Brittany asked you for dating advice all through high school. You know how much it hurt, how bad your stomach gets tied into knots over questions like that. You think it's really unfair of Rachel to put Quinn in that position. But you know that Rachel doesn't know. You know that Brittany never did.

"I suppose not," Rachel forces a smile at Quinn before tapping her knuckles together, "I think that I'm going to have to differ to Brittany on this. No offense Santana."

"Eh," You shrug and take a deep breath. You really need to have a coffee date or something with Quinn so that you two can really talk. This is not healthy at all.

"Okay so," Rachel takes a deep breath, "I need a date to the benefit. Photogenic and articulate."

You groan. If you have to find a date for Rachel, you're going to be here all freakin' night. Or more to the point, they will be here all night.

Quinn is the first one to speak, "I know just the person."

Rachel looks Quinn over and you look over at your friend. You can see how hard it was for her to spit that out. You know it'll be even worse if Quinn actually sets them up. But before Quinn can name names, Rachel tilts her head and softly replies, "Quinn, honey, I love you but-"

"I don't mean me. It's a guy smarty pants" Quinn quickly replies. You can see her eyes fall. Maybe even the accumulation of some tears. She blinks a few times and looks back up at Rachel, who has turned her attention to Brittany who has sat up.

Brittany crosses her legs and puts her hands in her lap like she's usually does when she's having a serious talk, "It's not like a totally horrible guy so she'll realize that you're the one for her?" That actually does seem plausible to you. You watch Brittany hop off of the bed and look around at your clothes all over the floor.

"You've been watching a lot of Kate Hudson movies haven't you?" Quinn deflects and looks from you to Rachel, "Hey guys, dating now. A super nice guy and I have a super nice guy for you if you'll stop being paranoid that I'm going to try to seduce you. And I'll have you know that if I did, it would be the best night...and next day of your life."

There is the Quinn Fabray you know. The confident woman who uses her cockiness to take away from her pain. You feel for her. You see how she looks at Rachel and you can feel it too.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Brittany sheds her shirt and steps into the closet, "The Tony's are totally boring." You eye Brittany's abs and think of all the things you'd like to lick off of them. She's so hot. You don't know how you go so lucky to have her, but you want her. Immediately. So you need Quinn and Rachel to leave.

You should have known Rachel would just to defend her dream award show," Sure they are on TV, but being there-"

You have to interrupt before she going into a long rant about how great they are, "No half pint. She went last year."

"You did?" Rachel's eyes get wide and she looks to the closet where Brittany is walking out. She's wearing your favorite old concert tee. The faded black under the peeling "Sex Pistols" look so fucking hot on her. You just wanna...

"I just met the producer for my show and he told me I needed to go," Brittany shrugs and stands in front of the mirror. She picks up the collar of the shirt and pulls it up to her nose, taking in the scent. You know that you were the last one to wear it so it smells like you. Little things like that get to you. She can make picnics and tell you she loves you, but every time she does something like that, there's never a doubt in your mind about how much she really loves you.

Brittany catches your eyes in the mirror and sees you looking. Instead of blushing like you would have (and sometimes do) when she catches you doing things that like, she shoots you a wink.

"Did you go?" Rachel looks across Quinn at you.

"Nope," you shake your head. "She took her boyfriend." You hate him even though he never really did anything to you. You don't remember his name, but you will always remember his face. The man who had Brittany when you moved to New York.

"Don't be mad S. We weren't together yet, but you're going this year," Brittany grins at you, knowing exactly what you're thinking. She falls down on the bed next to you and wraps her arms around your waist.

Your first priority is to make sure Brittany is comfortable while getting the maximum amount of cuddle. You add over Brittany's shoulder for Quinn and Rachel's benefit, "I already have my dress and everything."

Of course just as you get comfortable in the cuddle, Brittany sits up and turns to Quinn, "Q! "You can come with us! I can get an extra ticket. It'll be so much fun!"

Quinn looks at Rachel like she knew that Rachel was going to ask, "Are you nominated?"

"No. My show won't be ready until next season," Brittany hops off the bed again. It's never been about awards for her. In fact, she's never talked about getting any kind of award ever. She just loves dance. Brittany gives you a quick kiss, "I'm going to call Thomas and see if he has an extra ticket." Then she points to Quinn, "Then we have find time to get you a dress."

Quinn smiles, "Awesome."

Brittany claps and grabs her phone off of the dresser before bounding out of the room.

You sit up on the bed, realizing that you're not going to get lucky any time soon. "I'm glad you're going Q. We can both gag while Britt and Rachel schmooze." You stretch your back muscles and roll your neck.

"Santana," Rachel puts her hands on her hips, "Did you know that Quinn's birthday passed a few weeks ago, while she lived here and she didn't tell us?"

You prop yourself up on the elbows and look at the blonde on the bed, "Really Q? I knew it was your birthday. I figured I just got it mixed up with one of B's gazillion cousins."

"I didn't want to make a big deal," she just shrugs, "I just moved here and I wanted to keep it quiet."

"So she listened to me complain about my cast for a hour before I decided to go to bed," Rachel sighs and sits down. Quinn moves a little bit so that Rachel is comfortable. Rachel affectionately rubs Quinn's back. Something about them seems suspiciously like more than friends.

"That's not what happened. You were talking about how you could never be in Cats because you're afraid they'd do something weird and coincidentally permanent to your hair," Quinn smiles, remembering the night. She's got it bad. "Then we talked about Hair the musical and then you told me that you'd rather die than be in a musical that was based on a movie."

"What a rousing birthday," Rachel sits up straight and looks hard at Quinn, "I'm still mad at you."

"Speaking of cats…" Quinn deflects to you.

You hate her a little bit for bringing that up. You let it slip one day that you were looking for a cat for Brittany who keeps looking at a picture of Lord Tubbington and sighing. He's too old to move so you're trying to find the perfect replacement. "I've been looking. I really want to pick the right one, but I don't want to have to house train the stupid thing. All the smart ones are ugly and all the pretty ones are stupid. It's like Sweet Valley High for cats."

They laugh while you try to think of all the animal shelters and pet stores in the state that you haven't been to yet.

"Anyway," Rachel interrupts your list, "We're going out before the benefit Friday to celebrate Quinn's birthday."

"I'm dzown," you shrug again. These benefits are definitely not your thing, but you go because you're Brittany's girlfriend and most of the tickets come in pairs. Also, you have to be there to make sure everyone keeps their hands to themselves. "That benefit thing is going to be boooring. I might as well be drunk."

"You're going to that too?" Rachel asks with a heavy sigh.

Brittany walks back into the room and steps onto the bed with a huge grin. She stands over you and Quinn. You're not gonna lie, you're trying to look up her shorts.

She's addressing Quinn and not you, which is probably a good thing since you're being a perv. "We're so on for the Tony's."

Yay. The plans are made. They can leave now.

You all make plans to go dress shopping later on in the week. You'll have to squeeze it in at lunch as does Brittany. But you can think about that later because as soon as you close the door behind Quinn and Rachel, Brittany spins you around and kisses you so hard, your back hits the door.

You smile against her lips. Maybe this time you can get a little dessert.


End file.
